Baby Steps
by oldmcpiper
Summary: Just because Emma has always wanted a family doesn't mean her reunion with them will be a smooth one. Set moments after the curse is broken. Most of the focus is on Emma/Snow but Charming & Henry make appearances as well.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I tried my best to make this feel as real as possible, so please let me know if any parts feel out of character to you. For the time being, I've kind of ignored the fact that magic has returned & that Regina is still a threat; those elements both exist in this story, but they play more of a background role, because I want the focus to be on Emma trying to navigate her relationship with her family. Finally, a special thanks to Tvmatchmaker795 for encouraging me to write this! **

Emma gazed out the window, watching as the last remnants of the purple haze faded away. She had no idea what the fog meant, but her gut told her it was not good.

"What was that?" Henry asked, his voice shaking slightly. Emma shook her head, attempting to put on a brave face for the boy, "I'm not sure kid, but whatever it was, we'll face it together." She ruffled his hair and was once again flooded with relief that he was alive.

* * *

Snow ran through the hospital, her husband not far behind. She smiled distractedly at those who bowed their heads and murmured "Your Majesty" as she passed; she had far too much on her mind at the moment to worry about her royal duties. Part of her was still reeling from her reunion with Charming, which had been cruelly cut short by the arrival of the mysterious purple cloud. As soon as it had passed, her thoughts had instantly turned to Emma, and she knew that she must find her immediately. Without a word, she'd raced off to the hospital, a puzzled Charming trailing behind her.

When she finally reached Henry's room, Snow stopped just inside the door, gasping at the sight of her daughter. Charming glanced from the blonde to his wife, a look of understanding dawning on his face. Though he wanted nothing more than to sweep his not-so-little girl into a tight embrace, he resolved to hang back and let the two women have their moment first. He grasped Snow's hand reassuringly as both stared at Emma through tear-filled eyes.

The images Emma had seen when she touched Henry's book came flooding back to her. She stood frozen as the realization set in; these two people, who mere hours ago had been her roommate and a man she barely knew, were her _parents_. She'd pictured this moment thousands of times, rehearsing exactly what she'd say when she finally stood face to face with her birth parents, but in this moment, she found herself utterly speechless. The looks of what could only be described as unconditional love on their faces caused her to blush and drop her eyes.

Snow gazed at the woman before her, trying to reconcile memories of her beautiful baby daughter with the friend she'd come to know over the past few months. For the first time, she truly looked at Emma, studying every contour of her face and mentally cataloging the similarities between this woman and herself. She thought of the last time she'd seen the blonde – when she'd been chastising her for trying to run off with Henry – and she desperately longed to take her in her arms and apologize, but she kept her distance, knowing the woman would not be comfortable with such contact.

For a few moments, all were still, the air heavy with anticipation and unspoken words. Finally, Snow could stand it no longer; she raced forward and threw her arms around the younger woman. James soon followed, unable to maintain his resolve to keep his distance.

Emma closed her eyes, relaxing into the embrace, which she neither returned nor resisted. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, and that her actions in this moment would set the course for all future interactions with her parents. She tried to lose herself in the moment, willing herself to accept the love of her family and to reciprocate with love of her own.

Suddenly, she became very aware of the small audience that was watching the reunion – Henry was grinning up at the group from his bed, waiting for his turn to greet his grandparents, and the hospital staff, as well as a few of the patients, had gathered to watch through the glass walls. The site was enough to jar Emma back to reality, and the magnitude of the moment abruptly came crashing down on her. She was no longer standing on the edge of the precipice; she'd fallen off and was now hurtling inexorably towards the ground.

"No," she said quietly as she broke free of the pair's grasp. "No," she repeated, "I can't. I – I have to go." She was met with looks of hurt and confusion, but she didn't care; all she knew at that moment was that she had to put some distance between herself and the hospital. Her first instinct was to hop in her bug and drive as far away from Storybrooke as she could get on the remaining gas in her tank, but her thoughts soon turned to Henry and how small he'd looked lying in that hospital bed. After all she'd gone through to get him back, she knew that leaving town without him was not an option.

Instead, Emma ran, not knowing exactly where she was headed, until she arrived at Henry's castle – or, at least, the site where Henry's castle had once stood. She seethed with anger as she realized that this was just one more thing that Regina had taken from her. Sitting down among the debris of the erstwhile castle, Emma pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. As she finally shed the tears that she'd been fighting, she began trying to sort out the onslaught of emotions she was feeling. First and foremost, there was an overwhelming sense of relief that Henry was alive, tinged by intense anger at Regina for all the pain she had wrought. Her adrenaline was still pumping from fighting the dragon, something she was still struggling to believe had actually happened. And last, but _certainly_ not least, there was the fact that her entire life was a lie. She'd grown up believing that her parents had callously abandoned her on the side of the road, and that fairytales were merely fantasies. Now she'd been asked to believe that not only were fairytales very real, but that her parents were actually iconic inhabitants of that world, who not only loved her, but sent her away to give her a chance at a better life. It was a lot to take in, even for someone more emotionally stable than Emma was at the moment.

* * *

She did not know how long she'd been crying before she heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. She looked back to see Mary's familiar car pull to a stop, and turned away as the brunette got out and headed in her direction. She considered running again, but she didn't know where she'd go, and she knew she had to face Mary eventually.

Snow slowly approached her daughter, attempting to sort out what she wanted to say. She knew she'd frightened Emma at the hospital by moving too quickly, and, as much as it had hurt her when Emma ran away, she couldn't say she blamed her. Following Emma's hasty departure, she'd put on a brave face, not wanting to further upset Henry or those who'd been gathered outside the room. After convincing Charming to stay with the boy, she'd driven around town for a bit to clear her head, and then set off in search of her daughter.

Emma hastily used her sleeves to wipe away the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks, as the older woman sat down next to her, not close enough to be touching, but closer than Emma would've liked at the moment. Reaching into her coat pocket, the brunette produced a small package of tissues and handed them to Emma, who quickly dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes and blew her nose.

The two women sat in silence for a few minutes, until it became clear that Mary was waiting for Emma to speak. Emma cleared her throat, hoping to steady her voice, "Where's David?"

"He stayed behind to talk with Henry," Snow answered, choosing not to correct Emma for referring to James by the wrong name. Emma nodded as she absorbed this information, glad that Henry had not been left alone in the wake of her selfish departure. They lapsed into silence again, until Emma finally could stand it no longer.

"Mary, I – I'm sorry about before, at the hospital. I just…I can't. I'm not ready…" Emma stammered, words failing her as she tried to make herself understood.

"Emma," Snow sighed, fighting the urge to reach out and take her daughter's hand, "You don't need to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. You've suffered so much. You were just a baby; it was my job to protect you and –" she paused and shook her head, "That's a discussion for another time and place." Emma breathed a sigh of relief, glad to put that conversation off a little longer.

Snow swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and continued, "Look, Emma, your father and I don't expect you to change overnight and suddenly embrace us as your parents; that would be unrealistic. After all you've been through, it wouldn't be fair for us to expect immediate forgiveness. But maybe we could take it slow, you know…baby steps."

"Baby steps?" Emma repeated questioningly.

"Yes, we can start by making one or two small changes at a time, and build off that. I promise that we'll be patient and let you set the pace. "

"Ok…but I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, for starters, you could call us by our real names, Snow and James. Do you think you could do that?" Snow asked gently.

Emma nodded, silently testing out the names in her head. She found it slightly easier to assign the name "James" to David, as she hadn't really known him that well before the curse was lifted, but she knew it would be difficult to adjust to calling her roommate by a new name.

Snow smiled kindly at her, "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you're willing to try and make this work." She stood up, wiping the debris off her pants, and looked down at the younger woman with a penetrating gaze. "I will do everything in my power to make things right, Emma," she said quietly, lightly placing her hand on the blonde's head. Emma's heart constricted at the gesture, which she found simultaneously comforting and disconcerting.

After a moment, Snow removed her hand. "I'm going home to start dinner," she said, making an effort to keep her tone light. "I think we all could use a hot meal after today's events. Would you like a ride?"

"I think I'm going to stay here for a while," Emma said shaking her head.

"Alright, but not too late; it gets cold at night." Emma's head snapped up, her startled eyes meeting Snow's apologetic ones. "Sorry, maternal instinct, I guess."

Emma watched as the brunette climbed into her waiting car, and half-heartedly returned the older woman's wave. As soon as the car was out of sight, Emma once again broke down. She felt better after her conversation with Mary – despite her promise, referring to the woman as "Snow" just didn't feel right – but she was still an emotional wreck.

* * *

Finally, when she'd been reduced to dry sobs, Emma decided she could hide out no longer. It was starting to get dark, and, she noted wryly, it was indeed growing colder. She used the remainder of the tissues to clean up her smeared eye makeup, and stood up.

On her way home, she stopped by the hospital, where she learned that the doctors were insisting on keeping Henry for a few more nights. Thankfully, Davi – er, James– had already left, so she did not have to endure another uncomfortable mini-reunion. Henry was sleeping, and, rather than wake him, she simply sat by his side, stroking his hand, and thinking about how close she'd come to losing him. She was tempted to stay by his bedside throughout the night, but she felt physically and emotionally drained, and sitting in a chair all night would not be conducive to sleep. Plus, she knew Mary would be worried, and she wouldn't put it past the woman to come looking for her. Placing one last kiss on Henry's forehead, she left the hospital and headed home.

She felt somehow nervous as she pushed open the door to the apartment, knowing that _they_ – she was not yet ready to refer to them as her parents, even in her head – would be waiting for her. Both looked up at her from where they were seated at the kitchen table, James with a shy smile and Snow with a look of obvious relief, as if she'd been worried that Emma might not return.

Emma hovered near the door uncertainly. Noting her discomfort, Snow broke the silence, "Are you hungry?"

Emma shook her head, "No, I'm just tired. I think I'll go to bed early."

She quickly raced up the stairs, pretending not to hear as Mary called out after her, "You really should eat something, Emma." In truth, she really was quite hungry, having skipped lunch to battle the dragon – no matter how much she thought about it, it still seemed so surreal – but she just wasn't ready for a "family dinner" yet.

Snow watched as Emma disappeared into her room, disappointment clearly etched on her face. Charming reached across the table and tentatively placed his hand on hers, but she shook him off and quietly began putting away the leftover food. She couldn't break down, not yet.

* * *

Later that evening, Emma crept downstairs, hoping to grab a snack without drawing attention to herself. Quietly easing the refrigerator door open, she spotted a plate of saran-wrapped leftovers sitting on the top shelf. She had to smile as she read the note on top, "Emma, in case you change your mind." It reminded her of something the "old" Mary – her roommate and friend – would've done. She turned and headed back toward her room, preferring to eat the food cold rather than risk waking the others by using the microwave.

The sound of muffled crying coming from Mary's bedroom caused her to stop short. Anger flared within her, as she wondered what David – dammit, _James_ – had done to bring the brunette to tears. Despite the fact that she now knew the truth about James, a big part of her still viewed him as the man who'd cheated on his wife and broken her friend's heart. She turned and headed toward the bedroom, intending to tell him off, but just as she reached out to pull back the curtain leading into the room, she heard the woman speak.

"She was just sitting there, sobbing," Snow choked out. She'd been doing her best not to fall apart since the moment the curse was lifted – she'd kept her feelings in check when Emma raced out of the hospital, she'd reined in her emotions while talking to Emma at the castle, she'd even managed to hold it together when her daughter had once again snubbed her at dinner – but now, in the privacy of her bedroom, she succumbed to the emotional turmoil of the day.

"Shhh," James said soothingly, rubbing calming circles on her back. His own eyes filled with tears as he thought of his daughter's distant behavior toward him, but he remained quiet and let Snow do the talking, knowing that he needed to remain strong for her in this moment.

"She looked so small and alone. I just kept thinking about the last time I saw her – how tiny and vulnerable she was, how I was only able to hold her for such a short time. It took everything in my power not to throw my arms around her, but I knew if I did, I'd never be able to let go again." She turned and buried her face in Charming's chest, allowing him to wrap her in a comforting embrace.

Emma suddenly felt sick as she realized that _she_, not James, was the source of Mary's distress. A small part of Emma desperately wanted to fling back the curtain and run into the woman's arms – to allow _her mother_ to hold her, and, for once in her life, to trust someone to take care of her. Wasn't this what she'd prayed for since she was a child, what she'd wished for on every birthday candle and shooting star? And yet, she remained in place, listening to the sounds of the older woman's sobs and James' soothing murmurs. She found that the walls she'd constructed to keep others out now held her prisoner, preventing her from accepting the love her parents were so willing to offer.

Her appetite gone, she placed the leftovers back in the fridge and trudged to her room. As she lay in bed, tossing and turning, she reflected on her conversation with Mary that afternoon. She'd promised that she would try the "baby steps" approach, but at the time, she'd mostly agreed in the hopes that the woman would leave her alone. As she pulled the cover over her head to block out the muffled sounds from the room below, she resolved to truly put forth an effort to meet..._Snow _halfway. She wasn't ready to fully accept that her roommate was her mother – heck, she wasn't even sure she was ready to accept that the woman was a fairytale princess – but she knew that she had to do what she could to avoid hurting the only woman she'd ever considered family. With this new resolve in mind, Emma finally surrendered to the exhaustion wrought by the grueling day.

**Ok guys, I'd love to know what y'all thought. I'd like to continue this (no promises, but I will try!), so please let me know what you liked, what didn't work for you, etc. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I was blown away by all the kind reviews that I received for the first chapter! Everyone was so encouraging that I felt like I **_**had**_** to continue. :) Thanks for all the support and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!  
**

* * *

The next morning, Emma awoke to the smell of pancakes. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her of how long it'd been since her last meal. Dragging herself out of bed, she glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were still red from all the tears she'd shed yesterday, and she noticed that she looked as tired as she felt. Despite the exhaustion she'd felt last night, she had not slept well; her dreams had been plagued by images of dragons and Henry dying. She swept her hair into a ponytail and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to make herself look presentable. She was aware that her appearance didn't matter, but she was feeling nervous about facing her _parents_ – that word still sounded strange, even in her head. Taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs.

The kitchen was empty except for Mary – no, Snow. _Snow, Snow, Snow_, Emma silently chanted, trying to make the name stick. Glancing around the apartment, she noticed that James was nowhere to be found.

Snow sat at the kitchen table, lost in thought as she sipped a mug of hot chocolate. The sound of someone approaching startled her back to reality, and she turned to see Emma descending from the stairs. Her heart flooded with joy as it always did at the sight of her daughter. She wondered if this feeling would fade with time or if it was just something she should expect from motherhood.

"Where's James?" Emma asked.

Snow smiled at the sound of Emma calling her father by the correct name. "He's gone to Granny's to meet with some of the townspeople. We still don't know what Regina's plan is, or what the ramifications of the reintroduction of magic will be. He thought it best to discuss potential options in the hopes that we won't be caught unaware when Regina decides to make her move."

"What about Henry?" Emma asked, suddenly regretting her decision to leave him alone last night.

"The hospital staff is keeping a close eye on him, and we've asked the dwarves to take shifts guarding his room."

Emma nodded, not entirely confident in the ability of the dwarves to fend off Regina. Her anger at the woman was still fresh, and she planned to personally be the one to put a stop to her. However, knowing that Snow would not approve of such thoughts, she held her tongue, silently planning to corner James later for the details of the meeting. Grabbing a plate from the cabinet, she loaded it with pancakes and sat down across from Snow. She ate quickly, avoiding eye contact with the brunette, thankful that the woman did not try to start a conversation. As she rinsed her plate, she announced that she was heading to the hospital to visit Henry.

"Would you like some company?"

"No, I'll be fine alone."

"But that's just it, Emma. You're _not_ alone anymore."

Emma stood there, trying to think of a polite way to decline the offer.

"Baby steps, Emma," Snow reminded her gently.

Emma sighed, remembering her resolution from last night. She had resolved to meet Snow halfway, and she knew this small gesture would mean a lot to the brunette. Besides, perhaps Henry could serve as a buffer, distracting Snow from her intense focus on Emma. She nodded in assent, and couldn't help but smirk when she saw the bright smile that lit up the woman's face.

* * *

The two women entered the hospital, Emma leading the way. Almost immediately they found themselves surrounded by hospital workers, all of whom had now regained their fairytale memories. They jostled one another in their attempts to shake "the savior's" hand, each congratulating or thanking her for breaking the curse. Emma felt overwhelmed. Despite the events of yesterday, she didn't consider herself a hero, and she certainly wasn't ready to shoulder the responsibility of being anyone's savior.

Noting the look of panic on her daughter's face, Snow stepped in front of the blonde. "Thank you all, but Emma's son is waiting to see her," she said diplomatically, her tone kind but forceful. Emma shot the brunette a grateful smile as the crowd that had formed quickly receded.

They found Henry the midst of a game of "Go-Fish" with Grumpy, who quietly excused himself to give the family some privacy. The boy greeted them with an infectious grin, excited to see that the two women were getting along after Emma's hasty departure from the hospital yesterday.

"Hey, kid," Emma said, leaning down to give him a hug.

Snow greeted the boy with a friendly smile, "Hello, Henry."

Henry looked up at Snow, a shy grin on his face. "Is it alright if I call you grandma?" he asked hesitantly.

Despite the fact that it felt bizarre to be a grandmother at such a young age, Snow flushed with pleasure at the suggestion, and nodded at the boy. The two quickly struck up a pleasant conversation. Emma couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the ease with which the two formed a familial bond.

As the two chatted, Emma remained silent. She gazed at Henry, her heart overflowing with affection. Even though she'd known that she couldn't take care of him, giving him up had still been one of the most difficult decisions she had ever made. Now that he was back in her life, she found that her love for him had only multiplied. She couldn't imagine her life without him in it. She hated herself for all the suffering he'd endured while living with Regina, and she wanted to spend every moment possible with him to make up for all the years she'd lost by giving him up.

Her eyes shifted to Snow as she reflected on the parallels between this woman's life and her own; each had given up a baby they loved in the hopes that the child would lead a better life. However, whereas Emma had chosen to give Henry up, Snow had been unwillingly separated from her daughter. Like Emma, Snow now had to live with the knowledge that her actions had caused her child years of suffering, and she had missed out on twenty-eight years of Emma's life – almost three times as many years as Emma had missed out on with Henry. She thought about how lucky she was that Henry wanted a relationship with her, and had shown her nothing but affection since they were reunited; she felt a bit guilty thinking of how Snow must feel when, despite her best efforts to mend their broken relationship, Emma kept her at a distance, refusing to let her in.

Snow was aware that her daughter's eyes were studying her; she burned with curiosity wondering what was going through the younger woman's mind. She felt a bit self-conscious under Emma's probing gaze, and briefly wondered if this was how her daughter felt on those occasions when Snow couldn't refrain from staring at her. She glanced at Emma out of the corner of her eye, accidentally making eye contact with the blonde, who snapped out of her daze and threw herself back into the conversation, asking Henry about the friends he had made with the hospital staff.

After a few hours, a nurse entered the room, apologetically explaining that Henry needed his rest. His protests were silenced by the reminder that he had to follow the doctor's orders if he wanted to be allowed to go home soon. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, Emma and Snow located Grumpy and then left the hospital, promising the boy they'd return soon.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Snow sat down on the couch. "Come," she said gesturing for Emma to sit down beside her. Emma wanted to refuse, but something about Snow's tone – the same kind yet forceful one she'd used with the hospital workers – made her comply. The couch was small, just large enough for the two women to sit, mere inches separating them. Oddly, Emma did not find their physical proximity uncomfortable.

Snow reached out and took her daughter's hand in her own. It was a gesture of compromise for both women – Snow craved more physical contact with her daughter, and Emma was normally quick to shy away from any such interaction.

"I thought maybe we could talk," Snow began tentatively.

"About what?" Emma asked, shifting uncomfortably.

"Anything. Whatever you wish. I know you must have hundreds of questions."

Emma chewed her lip thoughtfully. It was true that she had questions, but she was trying to find the one that would result in the least awkward discussion. Finally, she settled on a path that she hoped would spare her from having to participate in the conversation at all, "Tell me your story. I mean, your _real_ story, not the Disney version I've grown up with."

Snow grinned at the way Emma phrased the request, happy that her daughter was interested in her life. She began with her childhood, and soon found the details pouring out as she told Emma everything – about losing her own mother at a young age, her father's marriage to Regina, how Regina orchestrated her father's murder and subsequently tried to have her killed. A smile came over her face as she described her fairytale romance with Charming; even when discussing the dark moments of their relationship, such as when she drank Rumpelstiltskin's potion, her voice remained tinged with affection.

Emma found herself captivated by the tale. It almost felt as though she was a child again, listening to her mother tell her a story. Snow continued, finally arriving at the wedding and her subsequent pregnancy. A look of unadulterated joy crossed her face as she described her happiness upon finding out that she was expecting. Emma blushed and looked away, a lump forming in her throat as she thought of all the years she'd spent mistakenly thinking she was unloved.

Snow's smile faded as she reached the part the story in which she and Charming had to send Emma away. The images Emma had seen when she touched Henry's book once again flitted through her mind, vividly bringing Snow's words to life.

"Emma, I wanted you – _we_ wanted you, more than anything in the world. We truly thought that by sending you through the wardrobe we were saving you. If we'd known how much you'd suffer we never would have…" Snow's words trailed off, her voice thick with emotion.

Emma's eyes stung with tears. Her normal instinct was to flee from such emotional revelations, but she found herself rooted to the couch, hanging on the brunette's every word. She knew everything the woman was telling her – having read about it in Henry's book – but, for some reason, hearing it from Snow White herself made Emma truly believe it.

Snow reached out and gently wiped away the tears that had spilled onto her daughter's cheek, amazed but pleased that the blonde did not pull away. The two women stared at one another, the air between them electric; both could feel that they were on the edge of something important.

At that exact moment, James entered the apartment, having returned from his meeting with the townspeople. The noise of his arrival jarred Emma back to reality; it was like a spell had been broken. She leapt up from the couch, hastily drying her remaining tears.

"I have to go," she declared. "I promised Henry I'd visit tonight."

"Emma, please don't run again," Snow begged.

James stood in the doorway confused, totally unaware of the moment he'd just interrupted. He glanced between his wife and his daughter, noting the tears in their eyes and wanting to comfort them both, but unsure of where to begin.

"Don't wait up for me," Emma yelled over her shoulder, as she pushed past James and headed out the door.

* * *

Emma arrived at Henry's room, slightly relieved to see that he was sleeping; she wasn't ready to deal with all the questions her disheveled appearance would prompt from the boy. She sent a concerned-looking Bashful home, telling him that she would stand guard over Henry tonight.

She felt her phone vibrate and pulled it from her pocket. As she'd predicted, it was Snow calling. She pressed the "end" button to silence the phone, and a few moments later, the screen showed that she had one new voicemail. Emma considered ignoring the message, but curiosity got the best of her, and she soon found herself listening to the brunette's familiar voice.

"Emma, I'm not sure what just happened, but I'm sorry if I pushed you too far today. I hope you will come home so we can talk about it, but I understand if you need some space. At least let me know that you're ok…please."

Though Snow kept her voice steady, Emma could hear the pain and worry behind her words. Feeling a bit guilty, she shot off a quick text, "I just need to clear my head. Staying with Henry tonight," and then switched off her phone.

Tiredly running a hand through her hair, she reflected on the events of the afternoon. She'd honestly enjoyed her time with Snow; listening to the brunette tell her story, Emma could almost begin to believe that things were going to be alright. She had been so close to letting her guard down with the woman, so close to trusting her, when James had walked through the door. She couldn't explain exactly what it was about that action that had triggered her flight response – it was more than just the arrival of the man himself – but whatever it was, it had been enough to put her walls firmly back into place.

What was wrong with her? Before the curse had been lifted, she'd grown to view her roommate as family; she'd felt affection toward the brunette and had grown to like having someone in her life that cared about her. So now that it had been revealed that the woman was indeed family – not just family, but the_ mother_ she'd always longed for – why couldn't she just embrace the change and be happy? Sighing in frustration, she closed her eyes and tried to find a comfortable position in the hospital chair to sleep.

* * *

Snow read Emma's text with a mixture of relief and sadness. She was thankful her daughter was safe, but she wished that she would come home. She knew Emma had a tendency to flee from her problems, but it was difficult to mend a relationship with someone who was constantly running away.

James came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting gesture. She turned and met him with a deep kiss. She was so thankful for his presence during this time. She knew that he was hurting as well, but the fact that he was staying strong for her was a testament of his love.

In that moment, she vowed that she would demonstrate a similar strength for Emma. She'd been achingly close to breaking through the blonde's walls today; she knew she just had to be patient. No matter how long it took, no matter how much Emma ran, she would prove to her daughter just how loved she was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: As always, a HUGE thanks to all who have reviewed, favorite, etc.! I appreciate each and every review, and it's incredibly helpful when people let me know what they liked/didn't like. I welcome all comments, criticisms, and suggestions, so please let me know what you think! Anyway, I know I've been kind of ignoring Henry/James so I tried to include them a bit more in this chapter :)  
**

* * *

Emma spent a fitful night in the hospital chair, finally giving up when the first rays of light began peeking through the blinds. Between the uncomfortable chair and the persistent nightmares, what little sleep she'd gotten had not been refreshing. She massaged her arm, trying to rid it of the "pins and needles" feeling, wryly reflecting that it had probably gotten more sleep than she had.

She gazed at Henry, still slumbering peacefully, and was once again struck by how close she'd come to losing him. Reaching out, she squeezed his hand, being careful not to accidentally wake him. She heard a quiet knock at the door, and looked up to see one of the dwarves – based on the huge smile on his face, she'd guess it was Happy – standing in the doorway, a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning, Princess," he said, crossing the room and offering the beverage to Emma, who gratefully accepted it.

"Please, just call me Emma," she requested, wrinkling her nose at the greeting. While she'd started to come to terms with the fact that she was surrounded by storybook characters, she was still having trouble accepting that _she_ was a fairytale princess. The dwarf nodded, a pleasant smile still illuminating his face. Emma couldn't help but return the grin, and felt herself begin to cheer up slightly – no wonder they called this guy Happy!

"I'll be spending the day with my son, so you and the other dwarves can have the day off," she explained.

"Prince James has asked that we watch over the boy, so we'll continue to do our duty. But I'll let my fellow dwarves know, and we'll serve our shifts in the waiting room. If you should need to leave at any time, you'll know where to find us."

He bowed slightly, causing Emma to squirm uncomfortably, and then left the room. Emma blew on the beverage in her hand before taking a large swig. It tasted terrible, but she was desperate for caffeine. She sighed; the slight feeling of cheer she'd experienced in Happy's presence had begun to fade, and her gloomy mood was quickly returning. She considered going home for a nap, not wanting to be cranky when Henry awoke, but she didn't want to miss out on any time with her son, and she certainly wasn't ready to deal with Snow and James yet.

As she sipped her coffee, she tried to figure out what she'd say when she returned home. How could she begin to explain why she'd run away yesterday, and, more importantly, how could she avoid another deep mother-daughter conversation with Snow? She could feel how close she was to opening up to the woman, how much she _wanted _to trust her, and, frankly, that level of vulnerability scared the hell out of Emma. Tears pricked her eyes as she remembered the look of hurt and confusion on the brunette's face when she'd fled yesterday, and she blinked furiously, trying to keep them at bay. She couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this much, and she hated how weak it made her feel.

The sound of Henry stirring shook her from her thoughts. "Hey, kid," she said, walking over to greet him with a kiss. The sight of his sleepy face and innocent grin lifted Emma's spirits, temporarily distracting her from her problems and making her glad that she had decided to stay.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Emma spent the entire day with her son, talking, playing card games, and watching tv. She left only long enough to fetch them both lunch from Granny's, knowing that Henry must be growing tired of hospital food. After lunch, she'd insisted that he take a nap, and, despite his protests that he wasn't tired, the boy had slept most of the afternoon. Emma tried to take advantage of that time to take a nap of her own, but could not quiet the thoughts in her head long enough to fall asleep. After dinner, Henry attempted to teach Emma how to play his favorite video game, laughing each time she clumsily pressed the wrong button. The time passed rapidly, and soon it grew dark.

Out of the corner of his eye, Henry saw that Emma was once again checking her phone. Although he could tell that she was trying to be discreet, he'd noticed that throughout the day, she would periodically pull the device from her pocket and scan the screen, before shoving it back into her jacket with a sigh.

"Are you expecting a call?" he asked, startling Emma.

"Oh, uh, I just wanted to make sure no one needs me," she lied. "Even though the curse has been broken, I'm still technically sheriff." In truth, she'd been checking for messages from Snow, and was surprised to find that her phone had remained silent the entire day. The brunette had promised to give her space, but Emma had not truly believed that she would. For the most part she was relieved to have a day off from the woman, but a small part of her was disappointed. It was almost as though a text or call from Snow would be proof that she cared, and that this "loving mother" routine was not just an act; that Snow was not like so many others in the past that had pretended to care about her, only to let her down. She knew she was being ridiculous, but before she could fully untangle her complex emotions, Henry once again picked up his line of questioning.

"I'm really glad you're here, but don't you think you should be heading home soon? It's getting pretty late, and Grandma and Grandpa might start to worry."

"It's not that late, and besides, I want to spend as much time as I can with you," Emma answered, hoping he would let the subject drop.

"So you're not stalling?" he asked.

"No," Emma said huffily, slightly embarrassed that the boy had picked up on her reluctance to go home. She had briefly considered putting it off again and staying another night with Henry, but she knew her only chance of getting a decent night's sleep was to return to her own bed.

"How are things going with your parents?" he inquired. He had picked up on the fact that something might be wrong when neither of his grandparents had come to visit him that day.

"I _so_ do not want to talk about this, kid. How about another game of cards?" Emma suggested, trying desperately to divert the boy's attention elsewhere.

"But, you and Grandma seemed to be getting along yesterday. What happened?" he asked, a distinct hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Look, I know how much you want everything to just magically be ok, but I've spent the past twenty-eight years of my life believing that I was abandoned on the side of a highway. Overnight I've gone from essentially being an orphan to having _parents_, and I don't know how to deal with that. And, whether they wanted me or not, the fact still remains that they put me in that wardrobe _alone_, even though they had no idea where I'd end up." Emma could feel herself getting emotional, and she tried desperately to rein it in. "The bottom line is, they gave me up, and I can't just pretend that never happened."

"You gave me up, but I forgave you." Henry said matter-of-factly. His tone held no hint of accusation; he said it as if he were stating a well-known fact, such as that the sky is blue. "Why can't you just do the same for them?"

"Because it's _not _the same, Henry!" she snapped, immediately regretting it when she saw a look of hurt register on his face. She was angry – not at Henry, but at herself, because she knew he was right. Yes, there were obvious differences between the two situations– such as the fact that she was practically the same age as her parents – but ultimately, both situations could be boiled down to an issue of forgiveness – something Emma was unsure she could find within herself.

"I'm sorry, kid, I'm just tired. Maybe you're right – I should head home soon." She wearily rubbed her hand over her face and pasted on a smile for Henry's sake, which he eventually returned with a timid grin of his own. They chatted a while longer, carefully steering clear of any sensitive topics, until Emma was sure her harsh outburst was forgotten. Noticing that Henry's sentences were frequently interrupted by yawns, Emma insisted that he go to bed, and stood to tuck him in. She sat by his side, watching as he slowly slipped under, and, after fetching Sneezy from the waiting room, she finally left the hospital.

* * *

Snow glanced at the clock, anxiously noting how late it was. She'd spent the day cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, cooking nearly everything in the cabinets – anything to keep her mind off Emma. She'd lost track of the number of times she'd thought she heard the sound of footsteps outside the apartment door and rushed to greet her daughter, only to find that she'd once again imagined it. She desperately wanted to go to the hospital to check on Emma, but she knew that doing so would only push the woman further away.

James watched as his wife checked the phone for the millionth time, hoping to see a text or a call from their daughter. The strain between the two women was beginning to take a toll on him. While he'd done his best to remain strong on the outside, on the inside he was a wreck.

When he'd first laid eyes on Emma in the hospital, he'd been consumed by the thought of holding her once again, as he had so many years ago, and his head swam with all the things he wanted to say to her. He'd never imagined that she would flee from his embrace, or that two days would pass without him having said so much as a word to her. Snow had since filled him in on Emma's miserable childhood, a revelation that had been incredibly painful, but had helped him to understand his daughter's distant behavior. He was jealous of all the time Snow had been able to spend with Emma before the curse was lifted; even though Snow had been unaware of her true identity, she'd still had a chance to bond with the woman, to get to know her and gain her trust. He knew what a hard time Emma was having accepting the fact that Snow was her mother; how much harder would it be for her to accept a man she barely knew as her father? And even though Snow had assured him that he was not the reason Emma had fled last night, he couldn't help but feel hurt that she hadn't spent more than five minutes in a room with him yet.

"Are you still hungry?" Snow asked, stirring him from his thoughts. "I think I have enough eggs left to make a cake." James felt slightly sick at the thought of cake; he'd done nothing but eat all day, as Snow seemed determined to try out every recipe she knew. He reached across the kitchen counter and gently placed a restraining hand on hers. He was worried about his daughter, but right now, he needed to help his wife. Swallowing his emotions, he once again put on a brave face.

"Maybe we should just go to bed," he suggested quietly, crossing the room and switching off the kitchen light. "Baked goods won't bring her home any sooner." After a moment, Snow nodded in assent, and reluctantly turned to follow him. They had just reached the entrance to the bedroom, when the sound of a key turning in the door caused them both to pause.

* * *

Emma gently turned the knob and pushed the door open as quietly as she could. It was late, and she had her fingers crossed that James and Snow would already be in bed. She had a splitting headache, which she suspected was the result of a severe lack of sleep. She crept into the dark room, nearly jumping out of her skin when the kitchen light suddenly snapped on. Standing just inside the doorway, she eyed her bedroom door longingly. She considered making a run for it, but she was feeling entirely too tired to run anywhere. Resignedly, she turned and faced her parents.

"Emma," Snow sighed, the relief in her voice palpable. She crossed the room quickly, and barely managed to stop herself from embracing her daughter. As she took in the blonde's bedraggled appearance, her relief was quickly replaced by worry. "Emma, you don't look so good. Do you feel alright?" James crossed quickly to his wife's side, alarmed by the prospect that his daughter might be ill.

"I'm fine," Emma shrugged sullenly, her voice low. As she noted the looks of concern on their faces, she felt an inexplicable surge of anger well up within her. Snow reached out and placed a hand on the younger woman's forehead to check for fever. It was an innocent gesture, but something inside Emma snapped; the emotions that had been building up finally spilled out of her. "I _said_ I'm fine!" she exclaimed, ignoring the surge of guilt she felt as the brunette yanked away her hand, a look of hurt flashing across her face.

Snow, surprised by Emma's sudden outburst, hesitantly tried to remind her daughter of their agreement to take things slow, "Baby st –"

"To hell with baby steps!" Emma cut her off. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer the baby you sent away; I'm a grown woman. It's great that you've conveniently remembered that you're a mother all of the sudden, but I've gone this long without a mom, and I certainly don't need one now!"

Snow took a step back, feeling as though she'd been slapped.

"Emma!" James said, almost sternly, shocked by the words coming from her mouth and concerned over the distress they were causing Snow.

"No," Snow said, placing a calming hand on his chest, "it's alright." Locking eyes with her daughter, she continued, "It's alright, Emma. Say what you're thinking. Yell at me; get it all off your chest." Emma's words stung, but she was aware that, for the first time, her daughter was expressing her true feelings and letting down her defenses. She could almost see Emma's walls crumbling as the blonde finally opened up.

"While you two were living here in Storybrooke, blissfully unaware, I spent _twenty-eight years_ feeling miserable and unloved, scared to let anyone get too close, because my parents – the two people I should've been able to trust implicitly – _abandoned_ me," Emma continued, taking a sick pleasure in the looks of pain that crossed their faces. "You claim you put me in that wardrobe to protect me, but the truth is, you were protecting yourselves. You had no idea where you were sending me; you just left me to fend for myself, in the hopes that one day I'd figure out how to save you. That seems pretty _selfish_ to me!" She could see the tears in both of their eyes, but she found that she was unable to stop. "I'm tired of feeling as though I'm somehow letting everyone down. I'm tired of disappointing Henry. I'm tired of feeling guilty for hurting you, when you're the ones who hurt me! I'm just…._tired!_"

Finally, her energy spent, she crossed the room and collapsed on the couch, drawing her body into a ball and sobbing freely. Snow raced to her daughter's side and threw her arms around her. Emma struggled, attempting to shake off the embrace, but found that she could not loosen Snow's iron grip. She finally succumbed, allowing the older woman to pull her gently to her side and rock her as she cried.

Snow clung tightly to her sobbing daughter, running a hand soothingly through her long, blonde locks. She felt a thrill run through her at finally being allowed to hold her beautiful daughter, but the feeling of joy was diminished by the crushing knowledge that she was the cause of her child's grief.

James stood silently for a moment, before finally crossing the room to sit on the floor at the foot of the small couch. Hesitantly, he placed a comforting hand on Emma's leg. He knew she would not be comfortable with too much physical contact, but he wanted to make it clear that he was there for her when she was ready.

Soon, Emma found that her tears had stopped flowing and she felt merely drained; two nights of little to no sleep had finally caught up with her. Snow noticed that her daughter's sobs had quieted and that she was now having trouble keeping her eyes open.

"Emma," she whispered quietly, "Why don't you go to bed? It's been a long couple of days." Emma nodded and tried to stand, but found that in her exhausted state, her legs had become very unsteady. James and Snow were immediately by her side, each wrapping a supportive arm around her.

"You can sleep with me tonight; it will be easier than trying to help you climb all those stairs," Snow murmured, steering her toward the downstairs bedroom.

"But, what about James?" Emma slurred sleepily.

"Shhh, I'll be fine. I'll sleep in your room. You just get some rest." James held onto Emma as Snow pulled the cover back on the bed, and helped her lay down. He then gently removed each of her boots while Snow helped her sit up enough to remove her jacket. Somewhere deep down, Emma was aware that she was uncomfortable with all the attention they were giving her, but she was far too exhausted to act on those feelings at the moment. Snow climbed into bed next to her daughter and pulled the cover over both of them.

"I'm…sorry," Emma said, making one last effort to fight off sleep. She felt a vague sense of shame about her earlier outburst, but already sleep was pulling her under, making it difficult to put her thoughts into words.

"Shhh, there's nothing to apologize for," Snow said comfortingly, gently brushing a stray curl off Emma's face. "Sleep now." Moments later, Emma's breathing became steady and even, as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion.

Snow leaned over and carefully placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead, knowing the blonde would never accept such an intimate gesture were she awake. James carefully perched on the edge of the bed next to his wife, lovingly taking her hand in his. The two of them sat in silence as they watched their daughter's peaceful slumber. The last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster, but Snow felt that perhaps they were finally making progress.

* * *

**Alright, that was another slightly angsty chapter, but I do think that Emma may have finally reached a bit of a turning point with her parents. I'm not saying everything will automatically be perfect between them, but I'm going to try to make the next chapter a bit lighter. Although…I'm really not sure where I'm going to take the next chapter, so no promises! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Ok guys, as promised, I tried to keep this chapter a little lighter than the previous ones. PLEASE review the chapter and let me know what you think! Thanks!  
**

* * *

Emma awoke feeling refreshed. She stretched contentedly, trying to remember the last time she'd slept this well. For the first time since the curse was broken, her dreams had not been plagued by nightmares, and she'd managed to sleep straight through the night. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced at the clock, sitting up in surprise when she saw that she had slept until 9:30. Taking in her unfamiliar surroundings, it took her a moment to realize that she had woken up in Snow's bed instead of her own.

Suddenly, the events of last night came rushing back to her. Her face flooded with shame as she thought of her outburst; she'd behaved more like a spoiled child than like a 28-year-old who was supposedly too old for parents. Not only had she said terrible, hurtful things to Snow and James, but, in doing so, she had inadvertently revealed some of her deepest thoughts and emotions. How was she going to face them today? And how could she possibly begin to apologize?

She sighed. As tempting as it was to throw the cover over her head and hide out, she knew she couldn't avoid them forever. Plus, she wanted to visit Henry, and she desperately needed a shower before she went to see him. She crept to the curtain that separated the bedroom from the main part of the apartment, and held her breath, listening for any sounds coming from the kitchen. Hearing nothing, she opened a small slit in the curtain and carefully peaked through, noting that the apartment appeared to be empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she threw open the curtain and headed upstairs to grab some clean clothes. She had just reached the top step, when she almost ran head-on into Snow, who was leaving the upstairs bedroom.

"Good morning," Snow said, smiling as she took in her daughter's startled appearance. "Sorry if I frightened you; I was just making up your bed. I'm afraid James isn't really in the habit of cleaning up after himself – one of his less charming traits," she joked.

Emma grinned weakly. She was confused by the woman's cheery demeanor; it was as if last night's outburst was forgotten.

"Emma, what is it?" Snow asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. Although her first instinct was to place a comforting hand on her daughter's arm, she kept her distance, not wanting a repeat of yesterday's events.

"I just, um," Emma began, her voice coming out as a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again, "About last night, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that." She looked down, unable to meet the woman's eyes. She knew it was a poor excuse for an apology, but Snow had taken her by surprise, and she hadn't had time to mentally prepare herself for this conversation. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to turn and race out of the apartment.

"Emma," Snow sighed. She could see that the apology had done little to ease the woman's obvious sense of guilt. Reaching out, she gently lifted her daughter's chin, forcing the blonde to make eye contact. "You never need to apologize for expressing your feelings. You have every right to be angry, and I'm just glad that you felt you could trust us enough to let your walls down a bit. This conversation isn't over – you raised some valid issues, and we, as a family, need to discuss them at some point – but now is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion. So come, for now, let's have some breakfast."

Nodding silently, Emma plodded back down the stairs, and allowed herself to be lead to a seat at the kitchen counter. She watched as Snow placed a pan on the stove and began to scramble two eggs. "You don't have to do that," Emma said, still feeling guilty about her half-hearted apology.

"Emma," Snow sighed exasperatedly, "I want to do it! I'm your _mother _after all." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched for her daughter's reaction. The blonde's head snapped up at the use of the word "mother," but she didn't run, which was a good sign.

Emma could not shake the feeling of awkwardness she felt toward Snow. While a small part of her was relieved that the woman had essentially forgiven her for last night, an overwhelming amount of guilt still remained. As soon as she had scarfed down her breakfast, she darted into the bathroom to take her shower.

Snow sighed as the bathroom door slammed shut. Maybe she shouldn't have let Emma off the hook so easily; maybe she should have forced her to apologize more thoroughly. On the one hand, Emma's outburst had hurt her and James deeply, and she could tell the woman felt an incredible amount of guilt about it; but, on the other hand, she just couldn't bring herself to stay angry at her daughter after all the years of pain she had caused her. Shaking her head, she returned to cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

* * *

Emma stood under the showerhead far longer than necessary, reveling in the feel of the warm water on her skin. She was vaguely aware of the phone ringing at one point, but she quickly dismissed it from her mind as the powerful jets of water worked the remaining tension out of her muscles. Finally, when the stream began to run cold, she turned the water off, and reluctantly stepped out of the shower. She quickly dried off, only to realize that in her hurry to escape from Snow, she'd forgotten to grab clean clothes.

Mentally cursing, she wrapped herself in a towel, and cracked open the door, wanting to make sure that James had not returned. As she peeked out, a flash of blue on the floor caught her eye. Glancing down, she saw a pile of clean, neatly folded clothes, and realized that Snow must have left them there for her. Smiling at the gesture, Emma scooped up the garments, and quickly got dressed.

Emma had planned to head directly to the hospital after her shower, but as she walked from the bathroom, she was intercepted by Snow.

"That was the doctor on the phone," the brunette began. Noting the look of worry that crossed Emma's face, she quickly continued, "He said Henry will be able to come home today. They have to finish putting together his discharge papers, but we should be able to pick him up this afternoon."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. She had never liked hospitals, and she was happy she would no longer have to visit her son in one.

"Wait," she said, a thought suddenly striking her. "Where exactly is he going to sleep?" The couch was too small for the boy to sleep comfortably on, and she wasn't sure how a ten-year-old would feel about sharing a bed with his mother.

"Oh, I guess in all the chaos, we forgot to plan for that little detail. Well, let's go find your father. Maybe he has an extra mattress he can bring from the house he shared with Abigail – or Katherine, or whatever she was called – during the curse." Emma thought she detected a hint of jealousy in Snow's voice as she said the other woman's name, but decided not to comment on it.

"Alright, let me grab my shoes." In her excitement over Henry coming home, she temporarily forgot her earlier feelings of discomfort around Snow. She turned toward the stairs, but was stopped by a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Don't you think you should dry your hair first?" Snow asked.

"No, it's fine. I'll just put it up in a bun," she shrugged, once again walking toward the stairs.

"It's rather cold outside, Emma, and it wouldn't do any good to have you get sick right now."

"Ok, ok," Emma said, raising her hands in a gesture of defeat. Rolling her eyes, she stomped back to the bathroom.

Snow waited until she heard the sound of the blow-dryer and then headed into her bedroom, smiling fondly at the rumpled bed – a tangible reminder that she had slept mere inches from her daughter last night. Leaning down, she began to straighten the sheet, laughing as she remembered all the times she'd made Emma's bed before the curse was broken. Messiness was hardly a genetic trait, but maybe Emma was more like her father than she cared to realize.

When the bed was made, she walked back to the kitchen, just in time to see Emma exiting the bathroom, her hair freshly dried. The blonde shot Snow a look as if to say, "Happy now?" and headed upstairs to fetch her shoes.

* * *

They found James in a small clearing just outside the woods. He was supervising a swordfight between Grumpy and a person Emma did not recognize – she was really going to have to brush up on her fairytale characters – calling out suggestions from time to time. Emma noticed that there were several pairs engaged in swordfights all around the clearing. The majority seemed to be using wooden swords, such as those found in a toy store; only a few were using actual steel blades.

Glancing around, Emma smiled to see that Red – wearing her trademark crimson cloak – was amongst the jousters. She almost laughed out loud when she saw that the woman's partner was none other than Granny. Emma knew from reading Henry's book that the fairytale version of Granny was apparently tougher than she looked, but she was still unprepared for the sight of the old woman wielding a toy sword. Catching sight of Emma, Red threw her a friendly smile and wave, but quickly returned to the task at hand, as Granny had taken advantage of the woman's temporary distraction to advance on her.

"Watch your footwork, Grumpy," James said, as he watched the two men joust. Turning to observe another pair, he spotted his wife and daughter approaching. He crossed to where they stood, greeting Snow with an affectionate kiss. Remembering last night, Emma once again felt her feelings of guilt and discomfort returning, but James met her with a grin that was so shy and awkward that she smiled in spite of herself. Snow quickly filled him in on Henry's release and the reason for their visit.

"And to think, we'd have a whole castle at our disposal if we could just figure out how to get back to our world," he sighed. "Yes, I can get a mattress, but we really might want to look into getting a bigger place." Turning back toward those in the clearing, he called for their attention, and they quickly gathered around him. After complimenting them on their hard work, he dismissed them for the day.

"What are you doing out here?" Emma asked curiously, as the last person drifted off.

"Just giving some lessons. No one's seen Regina since the curse was broken, but that doesn't mean she poses any less of a threat. I'm sure she's just in hiding, plotting her next move, but until we know what that move is, I've been teaching some of the townspeople the basics of sword fighting. I have knights, of course, but I think it's a good idea for every citizen to be prepared in case of an attack. Plus it's good practice for me."

"I thought Prince Charming was supposed to be some great warrior, always slaying dragons and rescuing damsels in distress," Emma said jokingly. "So why do you need to practice?"

James chuckled at her mocking tone. "Well, I have all of my memories from before the curse, but I also have all of David's memories. So a part of me feels like a battle-trained prince, but the other part feels like an animal shelter employee who's never set foot into combat. It's the most bizarre sensation; I can't even begin to properly explain it. Plus," he laughed, "I've been in a coma for twenty-eight years; I need to get back into shape!"

"Well, I want to come next time you meet," Emma said. "When Regina makes her move, I intend to be there and –"

"Absolutely not," Snow said, the authority in her tone stunning Emma into silence. "Emma, I understand your desire for revenge, but Regina took you from me once; I have no intention of letting her do it again."

Emma turned to James, hoping he would back her up, but was disappointed by his response. "I have to agree with your mother. Now that magic has returned to Storybrooke, I'm afraid that it would be too dangerous for someone who has not grown up in our world. This battle won't be fought on terms you're familiar with; it will be fought with magic and swords."

"And you don't know the first thing about wielding a sword," Snow cut in, hoping to put a decisive end to this conversation.

"I'm not exactly a beginner; I've slain a dragon after all," she reminded them, although, even she had to admit that a great deal of luck had factored into that victory. "And James, you could teach me. You're the one who said it was a good idea for everyone to be prepared." Glancing at the man, she could tell he was wavering, so she quickly added, "Besides, it would be a good way for us to spend some time together." She hated to take advantage of the guy, but she _needed_ to know how to fight. And, she had to admit, the idea of spending time with James didn't freak her out as much as she would've expected. She just wouldn't think of him as her father, but rather as an over-protective, slightly awkward, male friend.

James' heart soared at the suggestion, but he tried to keep his voice even so as not to scare her off, "I would like that very much, but ultimately I have to honor your mother's wishes." He was ecstatic at the thought of spending time with Emma, but still a bit reluctant to let his daughter engage in such a dangerous activity.

Emma turned to face Snow. "Look, Regina tried to kill my child. You of all people should appreciate where I'm coming from. You say you understand my desire for revenge, but you expect me to just sit back and let everyone else fight my battle for me? Tell me, will _you_ be sitting this fight out?"

"She's got you there, Snow," James said, laughing as he watched his wife scramble to come up with a rebuttal. As he glanced between the two women, each scowling at one another with matching stubborn glares, he was struck by how similar they looked.

Stepping between them, he said, "How about a compromise? Emma, I agree with your mother that it's dangerous for you to fight, but I think it would be even more dangerous for you to be totally unprepared should circumstances force you into the battle. So, Emma, I will give you sword fighting lessons – focusing mainly on how to defend yourself – and Snow, we'll keep our fingers crossed that she never has to use what she learns."

Both women nodded in agreement – Emma silently vowing that she _would _fight, and Snow silently pledging to keep her daughter away from the battle at all costs. Taking a seat on a nearby rock, Snow watched as the blonde bent to pick up one of the metal swords, struggling a little under its weight.

"Here," James said, removing the blade from her hand and replacing it with one of the wooden toys. "We'll start with these."

"Seriously?" Emma asked, raising her eyebrows sarcastically. She opened her mouth, intending to remind him about the dragon again.

Before she could say a word, James lunged rapidly toward her, thrusting his wooden sword in a series of complex movements. He was careful not to actually make contact with his daughter, but his actions caught her off guard; as she clumsily tried to back away from his advance she lost her balance, crashing to the ground and losing her grip on her sword. "Seriously," he said, smiling at the look of surprise on her face.

"Charming!" Snow chided, although she too couldn't help but smile.

Emma accepted James' outstretched hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She was slightly embarrassed by her tumble, but his point had been sufficiently made. She leaned down to retrieve her wooden sword and nodded to him that she was ready to begin.

"Alright," he said, authoritatively, "we'll begin with the proper stance." He demonstrated the technique and Emma did her best to mimic his example. Noticing a few errors, he crossed to her side and gently guided her arms and legs into the correct positions. Emma, who was entirely focused on the lesson at hand, did not think much about the interaction, but James could not help but revel in the fact that this was the most physical contact he'd been allowed to have with the woman since the curse had been broken. When he was satisfied with his adjustments, he stepped back, making one final check before continuing. The sight of his daughter looking ready for battle filled him with pride, and as he observed the determination on her face, he felt an overwhelming temptation to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. However, knowing that this was no time to get emotional, he banished the thought from his head, and proceeded with the lesson, teaching Emma several basic movements.

Snow had remained silent for most of the morning, content to sit on the rock and watch her husband and daughter bond. However, when it appeared as though Emma had mastered the basics, she finally stood. "How about a friendly sparring match?" she asked, crossing to pick up an extra wooden sword, "Girls against boys?" James smiled at his wife's teasing tone and nodded his agreement as she took her place by their daughter's side.

Snow immediately went on the offensive, barely giving James time to get into position. She knew he was the superior swordsman, and her only chance of gaining any ground was to use the element of surprise.

As their swords thwacked together, she reveled in the feel of the physical exertion. Mary Margaret had been such a timid woman, and the feisty side of Snow White was happy to once again have free reign.

Emma's mouth fell open as she watched Snow jump around, effortlessly keeping pace with James. She was having trouble reconciling this strong, confident woman with the demure brunette she'd known as her roommate. Backing away from the battling duo, she took a seat on the rock Snow had previously occupied and watched the show. She couldn't help but smile as the two of them maneuvered around the field, laughing breathlessly and exchanging teasing remarks. It was obvious to Emma how deeply in love they were and she felt a sudden pang of longing to share in that love.

"I surrender! I surrender!" James yelled, dramatically collapsing on the ground next to the rock where Emma was seated. Snow raised her sword in the air in a gesture of mock triumph, before joining her husband on the ground. It was obvious to all that James had let her win, but he accepted his "defeat" gracefully, gamely enduring Snow's gloating.

Watching this exchange, Emma couldn't help but chuckle. It was the first time she'd laughed since the curse had been broken, and once she started, she found it was difficult to stop. Snow and James looked at one another, momentarily shocked by their daughter's unexpected laughter. However, the sound was both beautiful and infectious, and neither could resist joining in.

Finally getting herself under control, Emma found that for the first time in recent memory, she felt truly at peace. Glancing between Snow and James, she sighed contentedly. She wasn't necessarily ready to accept the pair as her parents, but she was beginning to think that she couldn't imagine life without them in it.

* * *

**1) Normally I like each chapter to cover one day, but this chapter was getting too long, so I decided to cut it off here. The next chapter will pick up with the family going to fetch Henry from the hospital.  
2) For those of you who think that Emma still hasn't properly apologized, don't worry; that's coming up too!  
3) I don't know the first thing about sword fighting, so please forgive me if I've totally botched the jargon. :)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Thanks so much to all who have read this story! I can't tell you how happy each review, follow, etc. makes me!  
Just as a reminder, this chapter picks up right where the last one left off. The Charming family was enjoying a nice bonding moment after sword fighting practice, and now…  
**

* * *

Glancing at her watch, Emma realized that it was almost two o'clock. "Henry!" she said, standing up from the rock, as she suddenly remembered her son. James and Snow got quickly to their feet, and began loading the swords into a large metal crate at the edge of the clearing. When they were finished, James covered the crate with a tarp, and then joined Snow and Emma, who were waiting by the truck.

The women had set out on foot that morning looking for James, but they now piled into his truck, Snow riding in the middle between her husband and daughter. The feeling of happiness from the morning still pervaded the air, and the fact that they were on their way to bring Henry home only added to the joyful mood.

As James cranked the vehicle and turned on the radio, a popular song streamed from the speakers. The pair began to sing along, James in a deep baritone, and Snow in a clear, rich soprano. After a few bars, both began to increase their volume, laughing as they purposely sang off-key. Emma stared at them open-mouthed, half amused and half appalled by their foolish behavior. The windows were down, and as they drove through town, they attracted more than a few stares. Emma slouched down, trying to hide her face; _so this is what it's like to deal with embarrassing parents_, she thought.

* * *

On the way to the hospital, they stopped by James' old house. "I may need some help getting the mattress down the stairs," he said, as he climbed from the truck. Snow merely stared straight ahead, not saying a word, and, when it became clear that she had no intention of entering the house, Emma quickly scrambled from the vehicle and followed James.

"It's difficult for her," James said as soon as they were out of earshot, "She still has all of Mary Margaret's memories, and even though she knows that I was under the influence of the curse, she can't help but feel a bit betrayed." He unlocked the door and held it open for her.

Emma nodded silently as she stepped into the house. She'd been so focused on her own drama, that she hadn't stopped to consider that her parents might be having difficulty adjusting to things aside from being reunited with their daughter. The revelation just served as one more reminder of how selfish she'd been acting lately. She followed James upstairs to what she guessed was a guest bedroom, and stood in the doorway as he began stripping the twin mattress of its blankets and sheets.

"Have you seen Kathryn – er, Abigail – since the curse was broken?" she asked, noticing that the house still appeared to be almost completely furnished.

James nodded, "I ran into her briefly at Granny's the day after the curse was lifted." As if sensing her curiosity about the remaining furnishings, he added, "She's moved in with Frederick. It's hard for either of us to be in this house, where everything reminds us of the life we led with someone we didn't truly love. We've taken our clothes, and a few items here and there, but for the most part, we just want to start fresh."

He hoisted the mattress from the bedframe and flipped it on its side. Emma grabbed the end closest to her, and began to maneuver it through the doorway. Together, they managed to get the mattress out of the house and into the back of James' truck, where he secured it with some rope. Snow was as they had left her, still staring out the front window of the truck, but once the house was out of sight, her stony demeanor faded and her smile returned.

* * *

James dropped Snow and Emma off at the hospital and headed back to the apartment to trade out his truck for Snow's larger car. The women found Henry in his room, dressed, and waiting impatiently. "Where have you guys been?" he asked, good-naturedly.

"Sorry, kid. I got caught up in a swordfight," Emma explained, laughing at his shocked expression. "I'll tell you about it in the car."

She signed all the necessary documents, and then gladly left the hospital with Henry. They constantly had to stop, as every patient and staff member they passed seemed to know the boy and wanted to say goodbye. Emma smiled proudly at the thought that the townspeople were obviously so fond of her son. By the time they finally managed to exit the building, James had returned with the car.

Snow climbed into the passenger seat. "Buckle up," she threw back over her shoulder. Emma rolled her eyes as she slid into the backseat next to her son; she wanted to make some snide remark such as, "I assume you're talking to Henry," but chose to hold her tongue.

On the way home, Emma entertained Henry by recounting her sword fighting accomplishments. James and Snow listened from the front seat, smirking as they noted the obvious pride in their daughter's voice.

"When do I get to start training?" the boy asked excitedly.

"Never," Emma answered firmly.

"But you get to," he pouted.

"Yes, but I'm an adult. Battle is no place for a ten-year-old."

James, who had been listening to the exchange, spoke up, "You know, it wouldn't hurt for him to know a few basic moves. What do you think Snow?"

"I agree that battle is no place for a young boy, but I do think Henry might enjoy learning how to sword fight," Snow said, nodding in agreement.

"What?" Emma exclaimed, outraged. "I practically had to beg you both to teach _me_ anything, but now you think it's perfectly fine for my ten-year-old son to partake in such a dangerous activity? Bit of a double standard, don't you think?"

"And as I recall, you insisted that it was a good idea for _everyone_ to know the basics. And now you don't want your son to be prepared? Bit hypocritical, don't you think?" James teased her. Emma scowled as she realized that this was one argument she was not going to win.

Turning to look out the window, she realized that they were not going the right way, and was surprised when James pulled to a stop in front of Regina's old house.

"What are we doing here?" Henry asked, equally confused.

"We need to collect some of your things," Snow explained, as James stepped out of the car. "Right now, all you have are the clothes you were wearing when you went into the hospital. James is just going to gather your toothbrush, a few changes of clothing – things like that."

Emma opened her door. "I'll help you," she said, trying to climb from the car, but finding her path blocked by James.

"You'll do no such thing," he said decisively. "We've had someone posted at the house since the curse was broken, and so far there's been no sign of Regina, but that doesn't mean there might not be some hidden dangers in the house. I'm just going to run in, grab Henry's things, and come right back out. The job doesn't require two people."

"But –" Emma tried to argue.

"_Stay_." James said firmly, turning his back on her and striding quickly toward the house, signifying that the discussion was over.

"I'm not a dog," Emma muttered under her breath as she slammed her car door shut again.

Snow glanced at her daughter in the rearview mirror, and had to stifle a laugh. The blonde's arms were crossed tightly over her chest and her mouth was set in a distinct pout. She was not used to being told what to do and she clearly didn't care for it.

Minutes later, James returned with a large duffle bag, and after placing it in the trunk, they finally headed home.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Snow immediately busied herself in the kitchen, while Emma and James moved the mattress into the living room, placing it on the floor next to the couch.

"Sorry, kid, it's the best we can do for now," Emma explained apologetically. "If you want, you can take my bed and I'll sleep down here."

"No, that's alright," Henry shrugged, clearly just happy to be with his family.

As they waited for Snow to finish dinner, Emma took Henry up to her room, clearing out a few drawers for the boy, and helping him put away the clothes James had brought for him. Delicious odors soon began to waft up the stairs from the kitchen, and both found that their stomachs were growling with hunger. When Snow finally called for them to wash up, they wasted no time in taking their places at the table.

Snow made a fantastic dinner that included several of Henry's favorite foods. Emma was silent for most of the meal, listening as her son enthusiastically told them about the various fairytale characters he'd met during his stay at the hospital. He and James hit it off instantly, and the pair chatted animatedly; Henry was full of questions about James' life before the curse, and his grandfather was only too happy to answer them.

Snow smiled at the pair contentedly, but couldn't help throwing occasional glances at her daughter, concerned about the woman's silence. The day had been such a pleasant one – watching James and Emma bond, finally bringing Henry home– but now she was worried that her daughter might once again be closing herself off.

At the end of the meal, Snow brought out two pies, a tray of cupcakes, and three different types of cookies, and placed them on the table. As Henry excitedly began loading up his plate with dessert, Emma shot the woman a questioning look. "I did a lot of anxious baking yesterday," Snow said, her face flushing a bit in embarrassment.

After they'd eaten their fill of dessert, Emma volunteered to clean up, insisting that the others relax. Listening to the trio as they talked and laughed, she felt a swell of gratitude toward Snow and James. Whether or not she was ready to let them be her parents, there was no doubt that they were genuinely fond of Henry. She was glad that he would have grandparents – yet another thing she'd missed out on growing up – and she had to admit, the two had the spoiling part down – cooking his favorite foods, and indulging in his desire to learn how to swordfight.

She took her time cleaning, and by the time she'd dried and put away the last dish, it had grown dark outside. "Alright, kid, time for bed," she said, ignoring his whines of protest.

Snow and James both said their goodnights to Henry, and after fetching sheets and a blanket for the boy, retired to their bedroom to allow the pair some privacy.

Emma helped Henry prepare the mattress, and then tucked him in, taking a seat on the floor beside the mattress. "Goodnight, kid. I love you."

"I love you too," Henry yawned, turning over on his side. Emma's heart swelled at the statement, knowing it was something she would never grow tired of hearing. As she watched her son's eyes grow heavy, she realized that his actions over the past few months proved how much he truly did love her.

"Hey Henry," she whispered, "I just want to say that I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the curse. You tried so hard, and I'm sorry you had to almost die in order to convince me."

Henry looked up at her, surprised. "It's ok; what matters is that you believe me now." As he once again closed his eyes, she ruffled his hair fondly, amazed that someone so remarkable and well-adjusted had come from her. Within a few moments, Henry's breathing became deep and even. Pulling the cover up over the boy, Emma placed a feather-light kiss on his forehead, and carefully stood.

Eyeing the closed curtain that led into her parents' bedroom, she took a deep breath, trying to strengthen her resolve. Her conversation with Henry had reminded her that he wasn't the only one to whom she owed an apology. Crossing the room, she threw open the curtain and stepped into the bedroom, pulling it shut behind her before she could change her mind.

* * *

**I know that this chapter was supposed to contain Emma's apology, but I felt like there was already too much going on here, so I decided to move that to the next chapter. I have a rough outline of the apology scene in my head, so I should have it up super soon. Thanks for being patient with me!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Reminder: This chapter is a continuation of the same day described in the last two chapters (the same day Emma learned to swordfight and then brought Henry home). When the last chapter ended, Emma had just burst into her parents' room, ready to make her long-awaited apology.  
**

* * *

Snow was sitting at the end of the bed folding clothes, while James was propped against the headboard reading. Both looked up at their daughter, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Sorry, I guess I should've knocked," Emma mumbled, realizing her behavior had been a bit rude.

"Don't worry about it," James said, closing his book, "Is everything ok?"

Emma hovered in the doorway uncertainly. She looked down at the ground, unable to look them in the eye. "I, well, I owe you both an apology," she began, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. She had never been the type to apologize and her flight instincts were on overdrive.

James quietly scooted down so that he was sitting on the end of the bed next to his wife. He desperately wanted to assure his daughter that she was already forgiven, but Snow had explained that Emma's earlier apology attempt had done little to ease her guilt. Together they'd agreed that this time they would let Emma do the talking, remaining silent until they were sure she'd said all that she felt she needed to.

"I'm not going to cry and I hope you won't either; I think we've all done enough of that the last few days," Emma joked lamely, but when she noticed that no one was smiling, she grew serious again.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. As she finally began her apology, the words came pouring out of her, so quickly that, at times, it was difficult for Snow and James to understand her. "I'm sorry for the horrible things I said last night and for the pain I caused you – for the pain I've _been_ causing you since the curse was broken. You've both been nothing but kind and patient toward me and neither of you deserved that kind of treatment. I _am_ trying and I hope you won't give up on me, but I realize that people can only be pushed so far before their patience runs out."

Snow and James sat stunned as their daughter's words finally took effect. Did Emma truly believe that they would give up that easily; that a few hurtful words would be all it took to cancel out their love for her? It was as if she believed that love was an ultimatum – that if she didn't learn to accept and return it soon enough, she'd once again be alone. They felt that familiar mixture of anger and pain once again welling within them as they wondered what kind of people had taught their daughter to think this way.

"Emma, that's not – " James began, but Emma held up a hand to stop him; she needed to get through this.

"I get it. I know all the facts – that I was wanted and loved, that Regina is to blame, not you. And I understand what it's like to give up a child and then have them come back into your life, and to want nothing more than to make up for all that lost time. But, it's just too…hard."

She sighed in frustration, wanting to make them understand. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "When I was a kid, I wished more than anything for my real parents to come back for me. I was sure it was a mistake that I'd been given away. I'd make up elaborate stories about how my parents were secret agents who'd been kidnapped, and once they managed to escape, we would be a real family again – anything to avoid the reality of my situation. But as I got older, I could no longer hide behind fantasies. I spent years hating you both; I mean, it's one thing to give your baby up for adoption, but I couldn't imagine what kind of horrible people would leave an infant by the side of a highway. I grew closed off, resentful of anyone around me who had parents, which caused me to lose the few friends I had. And the more crappy foster homes I lived in, the more convinced I became that I was better off on my own."

She paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "And then Henry was born. I was scared and alone, and I knew I was in no position to be a mother; hell, I still needed a mother myself. Even though it was my decision to give him up for adoption, I still found a way to cast blame on you, thinking that if I'd only had some kind of support system growing up, maybe I could've been there for my son."

By this time, she'd begun pacing around the room, entirely absorbed in the story she was telling, "I've spent the last few years trying to convince myself to just let it all go; for all I knew, my parents were dead, and even if they weren't, what kind of relationship could we possibly hope to have? It wasn't as if they were suddenly going to want the daughter they'd abandoned, and even if they did, they'd missed out on too much; it was too late. I was alone, and I had accepted the fact that I'd _always_ be alone."

Snow listened to Emma's account, tears welling in her eyes. She was glad the blonde was too focused on what she was saying to notice that she'd broken the no crying rule. Emma had hinted about her unhappy childhood before, but this was the first time she'd revealed how much of that unhappiness stemmed from not having parents, and her heart ached for her daughter.

"And then Henry found me and brought me to Storybrooke, and I realized that I had a second chance to make things right with him. I was able to accept the fact that I'd never find my parents, knowing that I instead wanted to focus all my time and energy on being a mother to my son. But when Henry almost died, my life turned upside down. I touched that damn book of his, and in a flash, everything changed. I learned that my parents were indeed alive, and had not intentionally abandoned me. That alone would've been enough to wrap my mind around, but I've also had to come to terms with the fact that my parents are freaking fairytale characters who just happen to be the same age as I am! And to top it all off, I've been living among you both for months, totally unaware of your true identities. You'd think that would make it easier – that being friends first would help ease the transition – but somehow I've found that to be the most difficult part."

She looked up, making eye contact with Snow for the first time, "When I first came to live with you, I didn't even bother to fully unpack; I was certain that the arrangement would be temporary, and you would soon grow tired of me and kick me out. But you stuck with me, forcing your way into my life and patiently earning my trust. I used to look forward to eating dinner together, and I loved that, for once in my life, I had someone to come home to each night. You were the first real friend I've had since – well, since I can remember. I guess I just don't want anything to change," she finished quietly, hoping it had not been a mistake to reveal so much.

"It doesn't have to right away," Snow said softly.

"Yes it does! It already has! You used to treat me as an equal, confiding in me and asking me for advice. Now suddenly, you're worrying about me going outside with wet hair and looking at me with that – that _look, _the same one that I know I wear every time I look at Henry. Admit it, you're no longer capable of viewing me as just a friend."

"Emma when the curse was first lifted, I told you we'd take it slow and that I'd let you set the pace. If all you're comfortable with at this point is friendship, then we can start there." Snow stood up and took her daughter by the hand, leading her to the edge of the bed so that she was seated between herself and James. She tried to catch Emma's eye, but the blonde was staring fixedly at her lap, refusing to look up.

"But Emma, whether you like it or not, you _do_ have parents now, and we're not going anywhere. We gave you up – whether we wanted to or not – and we are punished for that every single day by the reminder that we missed out on twenty-eight years of your life. No matter how much you yell at us, no matter how much you shut us out, we will never stop trying to have a relationship with you. I know it will take time, but you have to learn to trust us when we say that we will never abandon you again."

Venturing a glance at Snow, Emma was struck by the sincerity of her expression. Despite the fact that they were the first in a long line of people who had deserted her throughout her life, she instinctively knew that what the brunette was saying was true – that she could indeed trust them.

"And that trust works both ways, Emma. You have to stop running away every time things get rough," Snow added. Her tone was still kind, but more authoritative than before, as if trying to convey to Emma that such behavior would no longer be tolerated. Emma nodded silently to show that she understood.

"As for the changes in the way I treat you," Snow continued, "Emma, I'm your mother; I have this instinctive _need_ to take care of you – to cook for you, to protect you, to do whatever I can to take your pain away – and while I know that may make you uncomfortable, I can't just turn those emotions off. Think about your feelings for Henry. I've seen the way you are with him – tucking him in and watching out for him. Despite all those years you spent apart, your maternal instinct kicked in when you were reunited." Emma smiled to herself as she thought of her son sleeping in the next room. She'd never considered herself to be the nurturing type, and it still amazed her how quickly she'd taken to motherhood.

"Emma, we both gave up children, and we've both had to deal with their sudden reappearance in our lives. But at least you were aware that time was passing, so that when Henry showed up on your doorstep, you weren't surprised to see that he had aged ten years. Now put yourself in our place; one moment we were holding our precious baby girl, and the next moment we awoke to find that twenty-eight years have passed and our daughter no longer needs us. You're right, you _do _have a second chance with Henry because he still needs a mother, but imagine how hard it feels wondering what place, if any, you have in your child's life."

Emma dropped her eyes as she listened to what Snow was saying. She'd thought many times about the similarities between her situation and that of her parents, but for the first time, she actually tried to look at it from their perspective – to imagine what it would feel like if, in the blink of an eye, the child she'd been forced to give up was suddenly an adult. She'd grown to love the idea that Henry depended on her, and just the _thought_ of him shunning her filled her with pain.

"Well," she began tentatively, "Just because I don't need you to tend to scraped knees or cut the crust off my sandwiches doesn't mean I have no place for you in my life. I mean, now that magic's back, I'm completely out of my element; I'll need you both to show me how to navigate this new world. And with Henry in my life full-time, I'm sure I'll need plenty of guidance and advice…and goodness knows I can't cook for myself!" Her tone was light, but as she locked eyes with Snow, the brunette saw that her gaze was sincere. "I'm sorry if I've made you feel like there's no room for you in my life. And I'm sorry I accused you of being selfish last night. Your actions the past few days have proven otherwise, and it's becoming increasingly clear to me that _I'm _the one who's been acting selfishly."

James reached out and gently took one of Emma's hands in his own. He'd remained silent, sensing that Emma needed to mend her relationship with Snow first, but he wanted his daughter to know that she had the support of _both_ of her parents.

"Emma, as far as we're concerned, that's all forgotten," he said. "The bottom line is we love you, and no matter how hard you try, there's nothing you could do that would cause us to stop loving you. I just hope that one day we can earn your love as well." Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Emma shot him a shy smile. She turned her other hand over, palm up, inviting Snow to take it. As the brunette's hand closed around hers, Emma realized that she did love the pair. It was nothing she was ready to vocalize, but for the first time, she'd trusted someone enough to reveal how damaged she truly was, and she couldn't help but feel affection toward the two people who had chosen to love and accept her in spite of it all. Oddly, she did not feel like crying; instead she felt light, as though a huge burden had been lifted from her.

For a moment, the three sat quietly, each enjoying the peaceful calm; Snow and James felt as though they could continue talking with their daughter for hours, but they also sensed that it had been difficult for her to open up as much as she had, and they did not want to push her.

Finally, Emma broke the silence. "Thank you both," she said simply, and, giving her parents' hands a quick squeeze, she stood and walked from the room. Pausing in the doorway, she turned and shot them both a grateful smile before pulling the curtain shut behind her.

* * *

Snow lay in bed, listening to the sound of James' deep breathing. Rolling over, she glanced at the clock, and sighed when she saw that it read 2:30. For some reason, she was having difficulty sleeping. As she attempted to find a comfortable position, the sound of someone on the stairs caught her attention, and, moments later, she saw the lamp in the living room switch on. Carefully, so as not to wake James, she climbed from the bed and crossed the room.

Opening the curtains, she saw Emma perched on the couch, her legs curled beneath her. Not wanting to frighten the woman, she cleared her throat, quietly enough to not wake James or Henry, but loud enough to alert Emma to her presence. Glancing up, her daughter met her with a smile, which Snow took as an invitation to join her on the couch.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, as the blonde scooted over slightly to make room for her.

"Yeah," Emma shrugged, "I just couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come down and check on Henry." She gazed fondly at the sleeping child. "I guess it's kind of weird, but I wanted to watch him sleep. He just looks so peaceful and innocent."

Snow smiled at the love she heard in her daughter's voice. "He really is a wonderful child. You should be proud."

The blonde frowned. "I'm not sure I can really take any credit for how well he turned out, seeing as I didn't actually raise him."

"Emma, I didn't raise _you_, but that doesn't mean I'm not incredibly proud of the woman you've become."

"Really?" Emma asked, glancing up at Snow with a questioning gaze.

Snow nodded reassuringly, "And the fact that you've managed to achieve all that you have despite the hardships you've faced is all the more extraordinary. Emma you have so many admirable qualities; you've got a good heart, you're fiercely loyal, and you stand up for what you believe in. In fact, I see a lot of myself in you, especially in your stubborn streak" she said, winking at her daughter. Growing serious, she continued, "Most importantly, you strive to do what is right. When you first brought Henry back to Storybrooke, you easily could've left and returned to your old life, but you saw that your son needed you, and you stepped up. And in spite of the fact that you've never had anyone to show you how to be a mother, you've done a remarkable job. In the past few months, Henry's been happier than I can ever remember, and you managed to save him, as well as an entire town, from Regina's curse. You're everything I could've wished for in a daughter." Emma flushed from the unexpected praise. Snow's opinion mattered to her more than she cared to admit, and the fact that the woman respected her made her glow with pleasure.

The pair lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. A small part of Emma secretly wished that Snow would hold her as she had the night before when she was crying, but her pride would not let her ask. Almost as if she could read Emma's mind, the brunette reached out and tentatively placed a gentle arm around her shoulder. Much to Snow's delight, Emma shifted slightly, so that she was leaning into the woman's embrace.

Emma sighed contentedly. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that she'd apologized and relief that her parents had been forgiving. But most of all, she was relieved to finally be able to let her guard down. She'd spent years constructing her walls, and she was beginning to realize what an enormous amount of energy it took to shut people out so thoroughly. She had always been afraid that letting someone in would mean opening herself up for pain, but now she could see that keeping them out had caused her even more pain. Between Henry and her parents, she now felt more loved than she ever had before, and while that fact frightened her, she was finally ready to stop fighting that love, and begin learning to accept it.

She leaned her head down, so that it was resting lightly on the older woman's shoulder. "Thanks, Snow," she whispered.

Snow's heart leapt at the way her name sounded coming from her daughter. It was the first time Emma had acknowledged the name change aloud. She knew it would be a long time – if ever – before Emma called her "mom," but for now, the fact that her daughter was trying was enough.

* * *

**Thanks so much for being patient with me while I tried to write this chapter; it proved much trickier than I thought it would! I sincerely hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and that no one was disappointed! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: BIG thanks to all who have reviewed. It means so much to me to know that people are enjoying this story!  
Warning: At the end of the chapter, Emma has a nightmare that's a bit…gruesome. Just wanted to prepare you before you start reading!  
**

* * *

The next morning, Emma awoke to find the rest of her family gathered around the kitchen table. As she slid into her chair across from Henry, she noticed that Snow and James were already dressed.

"Where are you two headed?" she asked, grabbing a slice of bacon.

"Granny's," James answered, "We're having another town meeting."

"Give me five minutes," Emma said, pushing back her chair. Noticing that Snow was about to protest, she quickly added, "Guys, we've already had this discussion. Regina has hurt me just as much as she's hurt you, and I intend to be a part of the plan to defeat her. I know you may not approve, but I'm an adult, and it's my decision." She could tell that neither was happy, but the fact that they held their tongues was a small victory in her opinion.

"Does that mean I get to come too?" Henry asked excitedly.

"Not a chance, kid," Emma said, searching her brain for what to do with the boy. From what she'd gathered, Snow and James hoped to capture Regina alive, but she was sure that not everyone shared that view, and no matter how unhappy Henry had been with Regina, Emma did not think he needed to hear the townspeople discuss how to potentially kill her. She wanted to go with her parents, but she certainly was not about to leave Henry at the apartment alone.

Sensing her dilemma, Snow spoke up, "I'll call Red and see if she could stay with Henry for a few hours." She knew Red would not mind missing the meeting, and, more importantly, she knew that Emma trusted the woman to watch her son. After a moment of hesitation, Emma nodded, and then headed to her room to get dressed.

* * *

The tables at Granny's had been pushed aside, and the chairs had been lined up facing the bar. James and Snow each took a seat on a barstool, which enabled them to see everyone in the room. At Snow's prompting, Emma took a seat on one as well.

She watched as the various townspeople filed into the diner, some taking seats, and others milling around talking to one another. The majority bowed respectfully as they passed the royal family, and more than a few stopped to thank "Princess" Emma for breaking the curse. Emma tried to be polite, but she could hear Snow laughing at her obvious discomfort. "Shut up," she mumbled under her breath, scowling at the brunette. Snow did her best to look contrite, but could not stop the corners of her mouth from turning up into a smile. Emma shook her head, totally unconvinced by the woman's weak attempt at remorse.

Glancing up, she gasped as she noticed a familiar figure walk through the door. The man caught her eye from across the room and shot her a tentative smile.

"August!" she breathed. The last time she'd seen the guy, he'd been made entirely of wood, and she had not talked to him since the curse had been lifted. Although she was tempted to use the excuse that she'd been too busy, in reality, she'd intentionally avoided checking on him. She knew it was cowardly, but she was afraid she'd been too late in breaking the curse, and was worried she'd find that he was trapped as a giant talking puppet, or worse, dead. She quickly crossed the room to greet him, relieved to see that he was once again a "real" man. As she reached his side, she raised her arms as if to hug him, but pulled back at the last moment, embarrassed by her unexpected enthusiasm.

Snow watched the encounter, surprised to see that Emma was clearly flustered. She tried to catch James' attention to see what he thought of the interaction, but he was engrossed in a conversation with Thomas. She narrowed her eyes, making a mental note to ask her daughter about it later.

"Hey," Emma said awkwardly, "It's, um, it's good to see you looking so…"

"Human?" he suggested with a grin.

Emma couldn't help but laugh. "I was going to say 'well,' but, yeah, now that you mention it, I'm glad to see that I can touch you without worrying about splinters," she joked, immediately wishing she hadn't mentioned touching him. Feeling a bit self-conscious, she rushed to continue, "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't come find you after the curse was lifted; I was just –"

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing," he said, cutting her off, "I've thought about calling you, but I knew you would have a lot to deal with, and, well, I wasn't sure you'd want to see me after the way we left things."

As Emma struggled to decide how to answer, James called the meeting to order, cutting their conversation short. Emma returned to her seat next to her mother, studiously ignoring the woman's questioning gaze. Her head was swimming from her conversation with August, and she quickly lost track of what was being said at the meeting. As she tried to sort out the thoughts swirling through her head, she suddenly became acutely aware that the conversation around her had ceased, and all eyes were focused on her. It was clear that someone had directed a question toward her, but she was at a total loss as to who had done so, or what the question had been. As she opened her mouth to ask them to repeat it, Snow cut in.

"I think we can all agree that Emma has sacrificed more than enough for this town. She's given up twenty-eight years of the life she was supposed to lead in order to save us. Her destiny was to break the curse, and she has fulfilled that role. While my daughter is fully prepared to do her part in the battle against Regina, she is no longer alone in this fight, and it would be unfair to place any further burden _solely_ upon her shoulders." The answer was diplomatic, yet persuasive, and Emma watched as several people around the room nodded in agreement. It was obvious that they had a great respect for the woman. While she missed her friendship with Mary Margaret, she had to admit that this stronger, more confident version of the woman was rather impressive; she had always viewed her roommate as someone she needed to protect, but it was clear that Snow could hold her own.

Emma did her best to refocus on the discussion at hand, hoping she had not missed anything too important. Since Regina had yet to be located and no one relished the idea of simply waiting around for her to attack, the conversation eventually turned to ways to draw her out of hiding.

"What about the boy, Henry? We could use him as some sort of bait to lure her out." The suggestion came from a large man at the back of the room. Emma did not recognize the guy, but she felt an instant hatred for him.

"Are you crazy?" she spat, angrily rising to her feet. Snow reached out and placed a calming hand on her arm.

"That's not an option," James said authoritatively. "Regina has already taken my daughter from me, and now that I have my family back, I will not risk losing my grandson as well."

Emma felt sick. She'd taken it for granted that the residents of Storybrooke were as concerned for Henry's safety as she was, and even though she knew that the majority of the townspeople would never agree to such a plan, the mere thought of using Henry as bait terrified her. "I have to go," she said quietly to Snow, "I have to see Henry _now._" Much to her relief, the brunette merely nodded, giving her arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. Ignoring the looks of curiosity from those in the diner, Emma stood and quickly strode out the door.

* * *

She returned to the apartment, ignoring Red's look of concern and dismissing Henry's inquiries as to why she'd left the meeting early. She felt instantly calmer now that she was with her son, and she mentally vowed that she would never again let Regina anywhere near him.

Approximately two hours later, Snow and James returned as well. As they ate lunch, James filled Emma in on what she'd missed at the meeting, leaving out any details that may have been inappropriate to discuss in front of Henry.

"First and foremost, we've decided that we can no longer sit around living in fear of Regina's attack. We have to return to some semblance of normalcy. Since it's still unclear how we will be able to return to our world – or if we'll be able to do so at all – we're going to resume life as it was before the curse. There will be some changes of course, but for the most part, we're going to continue living our lives as best we can. Granny and Red will continue to run the diner, Snow will continue to teach, and you," he said turning to face Henry with a toothy grin, "will continue going to school."

"Awwww!" Henry sighed, earning a round of laughter from the adults. He'd been enjoying the slight break from school, and was secretly hoping that his days would now be spent doing fun things like riding horses and learning to sword fight. "When do I have to go back?"

"Tomorrow morning," James answered.

"Well in that case, you're taking my bed tonight," Emma said, holding up a hand to stop him from arguing, "You need to be well rested for your first day back, and a mattress on the floor isn't the best thing for a good night's sleep."

Turning to Emma, James added, "And, if you like, the position of sheriff is still yours." Emma nodded, grateful that she'd have something to fill her time other than sitting around worrying about Henry.

They finished their meal and spent the rest of the day making the necessary preparations for the next morning.

* * *

_Emma sat on a blanket in the woods, watching as James and Henry had a mock swordfight, using sticks for swords. Henry lunged forward, pretending to stab James with his stick. James fell to the ground, dramatically clutching his stomach and writhing around, before finally "dying." Emma glanced over at Snow who was seated next to her on the blanket, and they both shook their heads, laughing at the fact that he was clearly still a child at heart. The boys finished their game and returned to the blanket, searching for a place to sit among the remains of the picnic they'd shared that afternoon. As Emma gazed at her family, she was overcome with a sense of peace, as if nothing could ever destroy the happiness she felt at that moment._

_Abruptly, the sky darkened, and the wind began blowing with such ferocity that the remains of the picnic were scattered chaotically in all directions. Emma tried to stand, wanting to reach for her son, but found herself flipped through the air. As she was buffeted about by the wind, she became disoriented, unable to see anything. _

"_Henry?" she yelled, "Henry!" If the boy answered, she could not hear him; the clamor of the wind rushing in her ears blocked out all sounds. Finally, the gust ended, and Emma found herself unceremoniously dumped a few feet from the blanket. Regaining her balance, she looked up, alarmed to see that her parents and Henry had vanished. In their places stood Regina and two of her knights who were dressed head-to-toe in black. Regina wore a look of unabashed cruelty; she was clearly enjoying Emma's panic. Emma felt a surge of rage course through her, and she rushed forward, tackling one the knights. She easily wrestled his sword from where it hung by his side, and stabbed him cleanly through the heart. _

_Not even pausing to question how easy her victory had been, she rushed at the other knight who had planted himself protectively in front of Regina. The knight appeared to be unarmed, and Emma was quick to slay him, determined to be the one to fight Regina. As she faced her enemy, the woman's mask of cruelty turned to one of fright, a sight that Emma relished. "Emma, no! Please!" she begged in a pitiful voice. Emma paused, momentarily confused by the woman's plea , but she was too consumed by vengeance to hesitate for long. Springing forward, she drove the sword through the Queen, taking a sick pleasure in the thought of finally putting an end to the woman who'd caused her family so much pain. _

_Emma collapsed to the ground, breathing heard, but wanting to make sure Regina was indeed dead. As she knelt over the woman, the three bodies began to shimmer, slowly transforming to reveal her parents' lifeless corpses lying next to Henry's – the sword still protruding from his body. She felt a stabbing shot of pain as she took in the horrific sight._

"_Henry," she gasped, the sound coming out as a strangled scream. With a sickening jolt, she realized that she had been tricked; Regina had cast a spell causing her family to appear to be the enemy, and as a result, she'd __**killed**__ them all. Pulling the sword from her son, she searched frantically for a pulse, growing increasingly hysterical when she failed to find one. "Please come back, Henry," she begged, "Please."_

_The sound of laughter filled the air, surrounding her as if coming from all sides. Looking up, she saw Regina – the real Regina – standing mere feet from the horrendous scene. All she had to do was pick up the sword and lunge at the woman, but the fight had left her; she sat motionless, frozen by the horror of what she'd done. She closed her eyes, clinging to Henry as sobs racked her body. _

_Suddenly, she felt a pair of strong hands clutch her shoulders, and she struggled to free herself from their grasp. "Emma, sweetheart, wake up. You're dreaming," Snow's voice commanded in a firm, yet soothing manner. Emma felt a faint glimmer of hope at the sound of her mother's voice, but she quickly dismissed it, knowing it was nothing more than another one of Regina's cruel tricks. Tightening her grip on Henry's body, she let the darkness overtake her.  
_

* * *

**Ok y'all, I'm sorry. I know that ending was rather dark, but I wanted to make sure that Emma's nightmare was horrific enough to truly shake her, so I could set up what happens in the next chapter. **


	8. Chapter 8

Snow wasn't sure what had woken her, but she had the distinct feeling that something was not right. Glancing around the darkened room, she was shocked to hear what sounded like a small, pained whimper.

"James," she whispered, nudging his shoulder.

"What?" he mumbled sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Do you hear that?" Snow asked, as the sound of another tiny whimper filled the air.

This time, James heard the cry as well. "Emma," he breathed, as he and Snow quickly got out of bed.

Flipping on the light in the kitchen, they were able to see that the source of the noise was indeed their daughter. She was tossing fitfully on the small mattress, fighting with the covers, but only managing to further tangle herself within them. Crossing the room quickly, they knelt on the floor beside the mattress. James placed his hands on the writhing woman's shoulders and shook her slightly, hoping to wake her.

"Emma, sweetheart, wake up," Snow said, trying to keep her tone soothing, despite the rising fear she felt as she watched her daughter struggle. "You're dreaming."

Emma's eyes sprung open, fear and confusion plainly etched on her face. Her body was trembling and there was a ring of sweat around the collar of her shirt. She sat up, looking around the room wildly, trying to ascertain whether she was still dreaming. Slowly, the familiar apartment came into focus, and she took in the sight of her parents, each wearing matching looks of concern. For a moment, she was so overjoyed to see them alive that she almost threw her arms around them both, but as the events of her dream came rushing back to her, her thoughts immediately turned to her son.

"Henry!" she exclaimed, trying to stand up. She instantly felt James' strong grip on her arms tighten, preventing her from moving. "No! You have to let me see him!" she cried, struggling against his restraining grasp.

"Shhh," Snow said, rubbing her hand in soothing circles on her daughter's back, "We will, but you have to calm down first. If you go upstairs now, you'll frighten him. Just relax and take a few deep breaths." Emma did as she was commanded, drawing in a large gulp of air, before slowly expelling it. After a few more repetitions, she felt her body's shaking slowly begin to subside. Sensing that Emma's agitation had lessened, James loosened his grip on her shoulders, and helped her untangle herself from the sheets.

Snow took her daughter's hand and led her up the stairs, gently guiding open the bedroom door, so as not the wake the sleeping child. Emma raced to the bedside, rejoicing in the sight of her son's chest gently rising and falling. Easing herself onto the edge of the small bed, she stroked the hair on his temple, before leaning down and lightly placing a kiss on his cheek. She felt the overwhelming urge to shake him awake, just to ensure that he was truly alive – and not in a coma as he had been when he'd eaten the apple – but she knew it would not be fair to disrupt his slumber.

Snow watched from the doorway, her concern for her daughter mounting. She did not want to pry, but whatever the nightmare had been about, it was clear it had deeply shaken the blonde. Quietly, she crossed the room and removed a fresh shirt from Emma's dresser. After allowing Emma a few more minutes with Henry, she approached the bed, and softly placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.

Emma was hesitant to leave, but knew that the longer she sat there, the more likely she was to accidentally wake the boy. Placing one final kiss on her son's forehead, she followed her mother out of the room.

Once downstairs, she accepted the clean shirt from Snow, and headed into the bathroom. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she was shocked to see that her hair was disheveled and her face was streaked with tears. She was glad she had not woken Henry; her current appearance definitely would've upset him. She quickly changed her top and then splashed some cool water on her face, trying to compose herself. When she was satisfied that she had a grip on her emotions, she headed back into the living room, sighing when she saw that her parents were waiting for her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" James asked tentatively. "It's ok if you don't."

"It was nothing," Emma said, trying less-than-successfully to shrug it off. "Just a dream. I don't even remember what happened," she lied. She could tell that neither of them believed her, but to their credit, they both nodded and let the subject drop.

"Why don't you sleep with me for the rest of the night?" Snow offered. She phrased it as a suggestion, but her tone made it clear that Emma did not really have a choice. James confirmed this by quickly settling himself onto the mattress on the floor, thus preventing Emma from doing so. She sighed and turned to follow Snow into the bedroom. She was too tired to argue and, truth be told, she was not exactly eager to spend the rest of the night alone.

* * *

Snow climbed into bed next to her daughter, noting that the blonde's back was to her. She hadn't really expected the woman to want to talk, but she was glad to have her in the same room. As she reached out to turn off the lamp, she was surprised to hear Emma's voice.

"I killed you," she said flatly.

"What?" Snow asked, confused by her daughter's confession.

"In my dream," Emma clarified, turning over and gazing up at Snow. The brunette nodded at her, silently prompting her to continue. Emma proceeded to fill the woman in on the details of her nightmare. By the time she'd finished, her voice had dropped to a mere whisper, and her eyes were glazed over in a faraway look. She did not cry, but some of her trembling had resumed.

Snow was stunned by the horror her daughter's subconscious had conjured. She scooted over, closing the small gap between herself and the blonde, and propped herself against the headboard. Placing a pillow in her lap, she gently patted the center, more than a little surprised at how quickly Emma agreed to lay her head there. Snow began to run her fingers through the blonde curls, searching for the words to comfort her daughter, but finding herself speechless.

"Could that happen? Could she really cast a spell like that?" Emma asked in a small voice. Snow was struck by how vulnerable and childlike she sounded. She weighed her options, trying to decide how to answer. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to lie, not wanting to further upset Emma tonight, but on the other hand, she knew that she could not expect her daughter to trust her if she didn't tell her the truth. Finally, she settled on an ambiguous middle road. "With magic, anything is possible," she sighed. Noticing how Emma tensed up, she quickly rushed to comfort her daughter, "But Emma, I promise that your father and I will not let that happen. We failed to protect you from Regina before, but we have no intention of letting that woman hurt you or Henry ever again." Emma nodded slightly to indicate that she knew what the brunette was saying was true, but she wasn't sure how reassured she really felt.

Snow resumed running her fingers through her daughter's hair, and began to sing a soft melody that she remembered her father singing to her when she was a child. Emma knew she would normally be uncomfortable with the brunette's behavior, but there was nothing normal about tonight. She could not remember the last time a nightmare had affected her so deeply; perhaps it was because she had never before had this much to lose.

She was surprised by how soothing she found the situation to be. She could feel herself beginning to relax as Snow gently stroked her hair, and although she did not recognize the song, her mother's clear voice had a calming effect on her; even the scent of the pillowcase – a combination of Snow's laundry detergent and shampoo– was comforting. She slowly closed her eyes, fully expecting to see Regina's malicious grin, but was relieved to see only blackness.

Snow stared at the wall, lost in thought, as she absentmindedly pulled her fingers through the blonde's curls. As nervous as she was at the thought of Regina's return, she almost wished the woman would just get it over with; the fear of the unknown was clearly beginning to take its toll. Looking down, she realized that Emma had once again drifted off. With a fond smile, she thought back to Emma's comment the night before about wanting to watch Henry sleep. She felt she could easily pass the rest of the night watching her daughter's peaceful slumber, but she knew she needed to rest if she was going to deal with a classroom full of students in the morning.

Gently, she slid her daughter's head off her lap, and pulled the cover up over the woman. She couldn't resist placing a kiss on the sleeping blonde's forehead, knowing that the opportunity to do so rarely presented itself. Reaching over, she switched off the lamp, and then nestled down next to her daughter – not close enough to make Emma uncomfortable, but close enough that her presence would be felt should her daughter wake from another nightmare. "Good night, my Emma," she whispered as she closed her eyes.

* * *

The sound of Snow's alarm clock jarred Emma awake the next morning. She rolled over, groaning at how early it was. The rest of her sleep had been pleasantly dream-free, but she was feeling the effects of spending the first half the night tossing and turning.

"Emma," Snow said quietly, "Why don't you go wake Henry so he can get ready for school."

The mention of her son's name was enough to get Emma out of bed. Exiting the bedroom, she waved a quick hello to James – who was sitting up on his mattress, yawning widely – and bounded up the stairs. She paused in the doorway, once again struck by how beautiful the sight of her son's breathing was, before eventually crossing to sit on the bed. "Henry," she coaxed gently, "Hey, it's time to wake up." As the boy sat up, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes, Emma couldn't help but engulf him in a tight hug.

"Um, Emma, you're kind of hurting me. Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma laughed, releasing him from the embrace, "Everything's fine. Now hurry up and get ready so you're not late for your first day back." She playfully ruffled his hair, before grabbing her clothes and heading down to the bathroom to change.

Walking back into the kitchen, she saw that she was the last one to finish getting ready. James and Henry were both seated at the table, eating bowls of cereal, while Snow was gulping down a cup of coffee.

"I've made lunches for everyone," Snow announced as she hurried around the apartment gathering her things. Emma shook her head as she eyed the three brown bags sitting on the counter, wondering when the woman had found time.

* * *

The sheriff's station was painfully quiet, and Emma found herself looking forward to lunch, just because it would be something to do. When noon finally rolled around, she began to unpack the bag Snow had prepared for her that morning. The first thing her hand closed around was a folded piece of paper; pulling it from the bag, she realized it was note from Snow.

_Emma,  
Enjoy your first day back. If you need __anything__, you know where to find me.  
Love, Snow _

Emma couldn't help but feel touched. It was a simple gesture, but it was yet another example of the maternal affection she'd missed out on growing up. She was certain that the brunette had slipped a note into Henry's lunch as well, and the thought made her smile.

A knock at the door caused her to glance up, and she spied James standing in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag identical to the one on her desk.

"Can I join you?" he asked with a kind smile. His grin widened as Emma nodded in assent, and he pulled up a chair so that he was seated across the desk from her. As he unpacked his lunch, Emma noticed that he also appeared to have a note from Snow. She watched a tender look cross his face as he read it, and considered asking him what it said, but decided against it in case it was private.

They made pleasant small talk as they ate, and Emma was struck by how enjoyable the exchange was; it was becoming increasingly clear to her how her father had earned the nickname, "Charming."

James was enjoying himself as well. This was the first real conversation he'd had with his daughter that didn't involve someone crying, and he was eager to take advantage of that fact. He loved Emma simply by virtue of the fact that she was his daughter, but as the afternoon progressed, he came to find that he loved the person she had become as well. He already knew how strong and independent she was, but he quickly learned that she also had a sarcastic streak and a wisdom that exceeded her years. Despite the fact that they had not raised her, he couldn't help but compare aspects of her personality to himself and Snow. When the meal was over, he found that he was not yet ready to part ways with Emma, fearing that it might be a long time before he got her to speak so freely again.

"Care to join me for a walk?" He asked. "It looks pretty dead around here so I'm sure you won't be missed." Emma hesitated for a moment, unsure she should leave her post on her first day back, but finally stood and followed him from the building.

They were fairly silent as they walked through the town, occasionally pausing so that James could speak to various townspeople. Emma gave up trying to figure out where they were going, instead trusting James to lead the way. Eventually, they wandered to a small pool near the center of the woods, where he finally stopped.

Bending down, James picked up a small stone and expertly skipped it across the surface of the pond. Emma absentmindedly picked up a rock of her own and attempted to imitate her father's actions, but the stone sank immediately.

"You need to flick your wrist a bit more," James said, once again demonstrating the proper technique. Emma tried again, but was met with the same result. "Oh well," she shrugged, unconcerned with her inability to master the skill.

"Emma, you barely tried!" he laughed, picking up another pebble and placing it in her hand. He stepped behind her, guiding her arm as she tossed it. This time, her stone skipped once before sinking beneath the water's surface.

"See!" James yelled, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. Emma had to laugh at how clearly excited the man was by the victory. After a few more tries, Emma was successfully able to skip almost every stone she threw, although she had yet to make one skip more than once before sinking.

Stepping back from the water's edge, James gazed at his daughter thoughtfully. When Emma noticed the change in his demeanor, she tensed up slightly, knowing where the conversation was headed.

"Look," he began, cautiously, "You don't have to tell me about your dream if you don't want to; I understand that you're a private person, and we don't really know each other that well yet," Emma could hear the sadness in his voice as he said the last part, "But please, I have to know if there's anything I can say or do to ensure that you don't have another nightmare like that." He could tell she was hesitant to confide in him, so he tried another tactic. "Imagine if it were Henry; wouldn't you want to do everything in your power to keep your child from suffering?"

Emma sighed, knowing he was right. She quickly filled him in on the gist of the dream, not wanting to get into the gruesome details. Even in broad daylight, she felt a shiver run through her as the image of Henry's dead body once again filled her mind.

"It was just a dream," she finished with a shrug, wanting to change the subject.

"A dream that came from a real fear," he corrected. "I want you to know that your mother and I will _not _let anything happen to you or Henry," he said, essentially echoing what Snow had said the night before. "We have a second chance to protect you, and we intend to do just that."

"James, really, I'm fine," Emma said, although her tone was less than convincing. She had no doubts about her parents' dedication to protecting her – if they were this concerned over a nightmare, she could only imagine how they'd react if she were in real danger – but she couldn't completely shake the feeling of fear her nightmare had produced.

James gave her a long look, but finally nodded and looked away. Scooping up a handful of pebbles, he once again began skipping them across the pond. Emma did the same, shooting the man a genuine smile when she managed to skip her stone three times.

* * *

**Author's Note: For those who think it's unrealistic that Regina still hasn't returned, I just want to clarify that I'm not actually that interested in exploring that aspect of the story. I plan to keep the focus on Emma and her parents, with magic/Regina only factoring in as background elements. I feel comfortable writing angst/fluff, but I'm not sure I'm up to the task of writing dramatic action sequences. In other words, unless inspiration suddenly strikes, don't expect to see an epic battle scene any time soon. With that in mind, please let me know if the story seems like it's just dragging on or getting boring & maybe I'll try to find some way to end it instead…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you such much to everyone who encouraged me to keep this story going! Reviews (even the short ones) make my day!  
**

* * *

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. The family had fallen into a bit of a rhythm—each morning Snow and Henry headed off to school, and Emma went to the sheriff's station, where she did her best to pass the time in a town that really didn't have much crime. James had taken over as acting mayor for the time being. He'd gotten into the habit of joining Emma for lunch each afternoon, and she found that she looked forward to the hour they spent together each day. Evenings were occupied with sword fighting lessons and helping Henry with his homework. Aside from the fact that some people still insisted on referring to her as "princess," Emma felt that things in her life were finally beginning to settle down a bit. She was still sleeping on the mattress in the living room, but had thankfully not suffered from any more nightmares.

Friday evening, Emma finished the last bite of her dinner and pushed back from the table. As she stood to take her plate to the sink, Henry shot James a look, and the man cleared his throat, "Um, Emma, there's something Henry and I would like to discuss with you."

She slowly sank back into her seat, eyeing them both suspiciously. "Ok…"

"Thomas has invited me to go camping this weekend, and I was hoping to bring Henry along. We'd leave tomorrow afternoon and return sometime on Sunday evening," James explained, clearly excited by the prospect of bonding time with his grandson. "We won't go deep into the woods – just to the clearing where we swordfight. That way if there's any danger, we're within reach of help," he added hastily, knowing she'd be worried about Regina.

Emma threw a questioning glance in Snow's direction, causing the brunette to speak up, "James and I have already discussed it, but you're Henry's mother, so ultimately, the decision is yours."

"I don't know. Maybe I should come too," Emma said uncertainly.

"No offense, but it's kind of a 'guys only' thing," Henry explained.

"That's true," James said. "Thomas has also invited some of the other men in town –I know a few of the dwarves are going, and I think Pinocchio may be coming as well." Snow did not miss the way that her daughter stiffened at the mention of the last man's name. "It's going to be a real _manly_ weekend" he added, puffing out his chest and lowering his voice. Despite her concern, Emma felt herself smirking at her father's goofiness.

"I was thinking that since the men will be gone, we could turn it into a girls' night. Maybe invite over Red and Ella," Snow suggested, hoping to help convince the blonde. She knew how badly James wanted to take Henry, and she thought it would be good for the boy to have a bit of fun. She also hoped the weekend would provide an opportunity for her to spend some time with Emma as her friend, rather than as her mother.

"Please," Henry begged. Emma glanced between her three family members, noting that they all wore matching pleading expressions. It would have been almost comical if it weren't for the fact that they were essentially ganging up on her.

"Alright," she sighed. While she wasn't keen on the idea of Henry being away from her, it wasn't fair to keep him locked away in the apartment, and she knew James would sooner die than let any harm come to his grandson.

* * *

The next afternoon, Emma and Snow watched as James and Henry loaded their gear into the truck. After Henry hugged Snow goodbye, Emma pulled him to the side. "Just in case you need me," she said, handing him his old walkie-talkie – the one he'd used to communicate with her during Operation Cobra. James kissed Snow, and then hesitated for a moment before embracing Emma in a quick, one-armed side hug.

About an hour after dinner, Ella knocked on the apartment door. Red arrived not long after, carrying a foil-covered plate. Emma was surprised to see that she was accompanied by Granny; the woman didn't exactly strike her as the "girls' night" type. After a few cursory greetings, Red set the plate on the counter, peeling back the foil to reveal three slices of a decadent-looking chocolate cake.

"These were leftover from the dinner crowd this evening," Granny explained, "We didn't sell them, but I hated to just throw them away, so I thought you girls might enjoy them." Snow fetched forks and plates, and she, Ella, and Emma each tried a bite of the cake.

"This is amazing!" Emma said between mouthfuls of the delicious dessert. She stared at her empty plate, wishing she'd eaten her slice more slowly. Reaching over, she attempted to steal a bite of Snow's piece, but the brunette, realizing what she was trying to do, was quick to pull her plate out of the woman's reach.

Emma's mock pout did not escape Granny's notice. "Would you like me to teach you how to make one?" the older woman offered with a kind smile.

"_No_," Emma said with a sarcastic laugh. She hadn't intended for her reply to come across so rudely, but the idea of her being anywhere near the kitchen was laughable. As the smile faded from Granny's face, Snow shot Emma a look of disapproval that made her feel about two inches tall. "Er," she began, trying to backtrack, "I mean, maybe that could be fun." Cooking lessons weren't exactly what she had in mind for girls' night, but it seemed that the decision was out of her hands.

"Good," Granny said, her smile returning, "Why don't we make two? Red, you can help Ella make one to take home for Thomas, and Snow, you can help Emma with hers." She proceeded to name off a list of ingredients, and Snow raced around the apartment gathering the necessary items. When everything had been collected, Snow and Emma assembled at one end of the counter, while Ella and Red gathered at the other. Granny stood between the two pairs, giving directions and supervising.

As the lesson proceeded, it became increasingly clear to Emma that she was the only one who needed any help in this area. She already knew that Snow was a skilled baker, and after spending so many years helping Granny run the diner, Red seemed to know her way around a kitchen. Even Ella demonstrated a knack for baking, which Emma assumed came from years spent waiting on her stepmother and stepsisters.

Snow let Emma do most of the work, and although she'd never had much interest in cooking, she found herself enjoying the task. She couldn't wait to see Henry's face when she told him that she'd actually baked something. Amidst all the measuring and mixing, the women each sipped on a glass of wine and enjoyed pleasant chitchat—most of which centered around their lives before the curse. Emma was content to merely listen, amazed at all there was to learn about the women she thought she knew. Finally, the batter was ready, and Emma carefully poured the mixture into the cake pan.

"Would you like to lick the spoon?" Snow asked as she began to clear the dirty dishes from the counter.

"I'm not four," Emma retorted sarcastically, but even as she said it, she took the spoon from the woman and began licking off the delicious cake batter.

Once the cakes had been placed in the oven, Red grabbed Emma's hand, and led her up the stairs. "I don't know about you, but I needed a break," she declared as she plopped down onto Emma's bed. Emma grinned as she pulled the door shut and sat down on the foot of the bed. A break was exactly what she needed, and it was good to see that some friendships didn't have to change just because the curse was broken.

"So how's everything going? You and Snow seem to be getting along alright, but it's got to be weird having a mother that's your own age, huh?" she said bluntly, earning a smile from Emma. It would be nice to have a conversation with someone without worrying about dancing around their feelings.

"Oh yeah," Emma acknowledged with equal frankness. "I still don't really know how to act around her. I mean, I feel like I was just getting to know Mary Margaret, and then all of the sudden, the woman I thought I knew, has been replaced by someone with this extra set of memories—including the memory of being my _mother_. There's just enough of Mary Margaret left to make me miss our friendship, but not enough that things can just go right back to the way they were," she explained, not sure if she was making sense.

Red nodded thoughtfully. "Has Snow ever told you how we met?" she asked. When Emma shook her head no, the woman proceeded to tell her the story of finding Snow in the chicken coop, and the way that Snow had stuck with her, even after learning she was really the wolf. "The way I see it, the woman I knew _before_ the curse was equal parts tough and compassionate, and the woman I knew _during_ the curse was gentle, understanding, and a loyal friend. I would think that anyone who is a combination of those two women is bound to be pretty special."

"Yeah," Emma conceded, thinking back to Snow's behavior since the curse had been broken. The brunette had been patient, kind, supportive, and caring toward her, regardless of the fact that she had given her so little in return—wasn't that the very definition of a mother's unconditional love? "You know…she is pretty great."

Outside the bedroom door, Snow paused. She'd come upstairs to tell the girls that Granny was ready to teach them how to make the frosting, but just as she'd raised her hand to knock, she heard the tail end of their conversation. She glowed with pleasure as she heard her daughter's admission. It wasn't much as far as compliments went, but coming from Emma, it meant the world. She waited a few moments, so that the women would not know she'd been eavesdropping, and then knocked.

* * *

Emma admired her handiwork. The cake was ever-so-slightly lopsided and the icing job looked positively sloppy when compared to Ella's creation, but she was still pretty proud of her accomplishment. By this time, it had grown dark outside, and the guests were preparing to leave the apartment.

"Would any of you ladies like to stay the night?" Snow asked as they began to gather their things. "We could have an old-fashioned slumber party."

"I wish I could," Ella said apologetically, "but I told the babysitter I'd be home by nine."

"And Red and I have to be up early to open the diner tomorrow morning," Granny said, slipping on her coat. Red shot them a glance that indicated she'd clearly rather stay, but obediently followed her grandmother from the apartment.

As she shut the door behind the three women, Snow turned to Emma. "Sleepover for two?" she asked, her enthusiasm still fresh. She could practically see the wheels in the blonde's head turning as she tried to come up with an excuse to decline. "Come on, Emma, you said you wanted to start with friendship…well, this is what friends do!"

Emma narrowed her eyes, knowing that the brunette had a point. She had to admit, she'd actually enjoyed spending time with Snow this evening. With the other women around, they'd been able to take a break from their normal heavy-handed conversation topics—such as Regina, or coming to terms with their new relationship—and chat about trivial things. It had been fun to see the feistier, more carefree side of the woman, and they'd even shared a few laughs. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to extend the evening a little further. "Fine," she said grudgingly, watching Snow's smile widen. "But if I wake up to find myself covered in shaving cream or that you've put my bra in the freezer, all bets are off."

"Better not fall asleep first then," Snow quipped with a playful smile, as she headed to the phone to order a pizza.

* * *

Emma changed into her pajamas and headed into the downstairs bedroom. Climbing into bed next to Snow, she chuckled internally. Before the curse had been broken, she'd never even considered sleeping in this room, but this would be the third night she'd spent in Snow's bed in less than two weeks' time.

The pair lay on their sides, facing one another, each propped up on an elbow. "Truth or dare?" Snow asked grinning mischievously.

"Seriously?" Emma asked with a disbelieving stare. Up until this point, she had been secretly thankful that Snow was not taking the whole "sleepover" thing too far; aside from the pizza—which had been accompanied by another glass of wine— she hadn't been forced to endure make-overs, chick-flicks, or any other slumber party stereotypes.

"Come on! Truth or dare!" the brunette repeated more insistently.

"Dare," Emma replied, rolling her eyes.

"I dare you to call Pinocchio and tell him you have a crush on him," Snow said teasingly, emboldened by the alcohol in her system.

"What are you, _twelve_?" Emma asked, turning over to face the ceiling, hoping to hide the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. "Besides, I do_ not_ have feelings for August." There were some people she just refused to call by their fairytale names.

Snow grinned as she watched her daughter shift uncomfortably. "Whatever you say," she said in a tone that conveyed that she clearly did not believe the woman. She rolled over onto her back, mimicking Emma's position. A stillness passed over the pair, and for a few minutes, nothing was said.

"Truth or dare," Emma said quietly, finally breaking the silence. Snow rolled back over onto her side, and was surprised to see how serious the woman had grown.

"Truth," she said uncertainly.

"Do you ever think about having another baby?" Emma asked, not daring to look at the brunette.

For a moment, Snow lay perfectly still, completely thrown by her daughter's unexpected question.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to," Emma said, but the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her. In truth, she was terrified that she would be replaced. She knew she was being selfish – it was obvious that James and Snow desperately wanted to be parents, and a new baby would allow them to experience all the milestones they'd missed out on now that she was grown – but she'd just found her parents; she wasn't ready to share them yet.

Snow sighed; it was clear Emma was still waiting for the moment when she would once again be alone. She sat up, propping herself against the headboard.

"Will you please look at me?" she tried. The blonde ventured a small glance in her direction, but quickly returned to staring at the ceiling. "Emma," Snow said, a bit more forcefully. The blonde exhaled heavily and sat up, meeting her mother's concerned gaze with an uncomfortable one.

"When I first found out I was pregnant, I was happier than I'd ever been in my entire life – even happier than the day I married you father. So happy, in fact, that I was certain I could never _be_ any happier. But, of course, I was wrong. The day you were born, before I had to send you away, Doc placed you in my arms, and in that brief moment, I felt an overwhelming joy, the likes of which I'd never known. And I was sure that _that _would forever be the happiest moment of my life…but again, I was wrong. Seeing you in the hospital the day the curse was broken, I experienced a burst of pure elation, knowing that my beautiful, strong, courageous daughter had saved us all." Emma flushed at the description. She dropped her gaze and suddenly became very interested in tracing the patterns on the sheets. Snow continued, knowing that the woman was listening even if she was pretending not to. "Your father and I have so much lost time to make up for, so much to learn about you. Introducing a new child into the mix before we've fully explored our relationship with you wouldn't be fair to anyone—not to you, us, or the baby. I'm not saying that the thought hasn't crossed my mind, or that we won't explore the possibility someday down the road, but for now, I have a second chance to be the mother I never was to you, and _that _is my happy ending."

"You're just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear," Emma said, shaking her head. Snow opened her mouth to reply, but Emma cut her off. "Forget it; I never should have brought it up." She wasn't sure what had brought on the moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, but she blamed the alcohol, and mentally vowed to stay away from wine in the future.

"I won't forget it," Snow said emphatically. "It's something that has clearly been bothering you, and I'm glad you felt you could talk to me about it." She reached out and gently placed a hand on Emma's cheek, turning the blonde's head so that she was looking her in the eye. "Emma I'm your mother. You have to know that you can come to me with _anything_ and I will give you a straight answer; I won't just say whatever it is that I think will reassure you. In fact, sometimes you may not like what I have to say, but at least you'll know that it's what I truly think or feel. I keep asking you to trust me, but it wouldn't be fair of me to do that if I wasn't prepared to be totally honest with you at all times."

Emma searched the woman's face, trying to gauge her sincerity. Snow met her with an unwavering gaze, silently willing her daughter to believe her. Taking in the brunette's earnest expression, Emma was flooded with an overwhelming sense of relief. She was finally beginning to find her place in her family, and it was nice to know that there would not be any dramatic shifts in the family dynamic anytime soon. She nodded slowly, feeling a swell of gratitude toward her mother for not trivializing her concern and for being honest with her.

"Go ahead," Emma sighed, a small smile forming on her face.

The brunette wrinkled her forehead in confusion, "What?"

"I know you want to hug me, so go ahead," Emma explained, trying to make it seem as though the offer was a sacrifice on her part. In reality, she wanted to hug her mother, but was not yet ready for such a display of affection, and she knew the woman would not be able to resist the invitation.

The confusion on Snow's face quickly melted away to reveal a huge grin. She rushed to wrap the blonde in her arms, not giving her the chance to change her mind. As she began to pull back from the embrace, she leaned up and placed a light kiss on her daughter's temple. She knew she was majorly pressing her luck, but she also knew that if she were ever going to take such a risk, now would be the time.

"Ok, don't get carried away," Emma said good-naturedly. Her skin tingled where the woman had kissed her, and she was surprised to discover that she found the gesture more pleasant than awkward.

As they switched off the lights and settled back down into the bed, both women were filled with a sense of happiness and contentment.

* * *

**As always, I'd love to hear from you guys! If you have any requests for moments you'd like to see between Emma & her parents (especially moments between Snow & Emma b/c those are my favorite to write), let me know and I'll try to work them in.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow! The response to that last chapter was overwhelming. I wish I could thank each and every one of you personally, but just know that I really do appreciate you guys!  
I've had some requests for more Emma/Henry moments, and since I aim to please, this chapter focuses mainly on that pairing. But don't worry Emma/Snow fans, I couldn't resist including a little of that pairing as well! :)  
**

* * *

Emma was surprised to see James and Henry walk through the apartment door. It was only noon, and she had not been expecting them to return home until hours later. She opened her mouth to question their early arrival, but one look at Henry was all the explanation she needed. His face was pale, and he looked miserable. Rushing to his side, she put a hand on his forehead, noting that he had a trace of a fever.

"He threw up at the campsite, so we decided to come home early," James explained.

"What's wrong? Do you need to go to the doctor?" Emma asked, trying to keep her panic at bay. What if this was some lingering side effect of eating the poisoned apple? Henry shook his head no.

Snow, who had been listening from the kitchen, spoke up. "It sounds like a 24-hour stomach bug," she explained, trying to soothe her frantic daughter, "Several of the kids in my class have been out this week with the virus. It was only a matter of time until Henry caught it."

Emma nodded, not daring to release her grip on her son, and guided him up to the bedroom. She hated to make him climb the stairs, but she knew his sleep was less likely to be interrupted in the upstairs room. While Henry changed into a pair of pajamas she'd found for him, Emma headed back downstairs to gather a few supplies. She returned to find that the boy had already burrowed down under the covers. Taking a seat beside him, she stroked his hair comfortingly.

"Henry, I've brought you some medicine to help settle your stomach," she explained, helping him sit up enough to swallow the medication. "Do you feel like you could eat something?" she asked, gesturing to a box of crackers and a Sprite she'd set on the bedside table. Henry shook his head and groaned. "Ok," she nodded, "I'm going to put a bucket right here beside the bed for you, so if you feel yourself starting to get sick again, you won't have to try to make it to the bathroom." Henry glanced at the bucket and then closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

Emma spent the afternoon watching over her son, periodically waking him to make him take medication and try to get him to eat. When nighttime finally rolled around, she carried an armful of blankets up to the room and began to arrange them on the floor.

Henry stirred slightly. "What are you doing?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep, kid," Emma whispered as she lowered herself onto the pallet. She closed her eyes and let the sound of her son's breathing lull her to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Henry awoke feeling much better. He had not been sick during the night, and no trace of his fever remained. Just to be on the safe side, Emma insisted that he stay home from school, a precaution that was met with no arguments from the boy.

James stopped by the apartment for lunch, laughing as he watched his grandson load his plate with second helpings. The boy's voracious appetite wasn't the only thing that had returned; now that Henry had his full strength back, he quickly grew restless at being stuck inside the apartment. Finally, after a few hours of listening to Henry complain that he was bored, Emma suggested that he channel some of his energy into unpacking the bag he'd taken on the camping trip.

Ten minutes later, Henry came barreling back down the stairs, visibly upset. "My walkie-talkie! It must have fallen out of my bag at the campsite!"

"I'll call James and have him pick it up on his way home from work," Emma said, confused as to why he was so upset over the loss of the gadget.

"But what if something happens to it? What if it rains or someone else takes it?"

"It's ok, we can get you another walkie-talkie," Emma said, trying to calm the boy down.

"No! This one's special!" he exclaimed, wanting to make her understand, "Before the curse was broken, it was my link to you. No matter how bad things got at home, I knew I could always reach you, and that always made me feel better…" he trailed off, almost in tears. Emma felt a lump form in her throat; she'd never guessed the device would hold so much significance for Henry.

"Ok," she said, smiling at her son, "We'll go get it right now. But we are going straight there and straight back, and when we get home, I want you to take it easy. Understood?" The boy nodded, visibly cheering up.

They decided to walk to the clearing; it wasn't that far, and Emma thought the fresh air might do Henry some good. When they arrived, Henry raced to the spot where the campsite had been set up, and after a moment of searching, he held up the missing walkie-talkie, a triumphant look on his face.

Emma turned and began to walk back toward the road, assuming that Henry was behind her, until she heard him yell, "En garde!" Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that he was holding one of the wooden swords that James kept at the clearing. She shot him a look, intending to remind him that the agreement was to go straight home as soon as they found the walkie-talkie, but the enthusiastic smile on his face quickly melted her resolve.

She shook her head, amazed at the marked improvement in the boy's health since yesterday; 10-year-old boys were remarkably resilient! She shed her jacket, tossing it off to the side, and grabbed a weapon of her own. For a while, the clearing was filled with the sound of laughter and wooden swords thwacking together. Finally, Emma surrendered and took a seat on a rock, watching as Henry continued to exhaust his excess energy by running around with the sword, occasionally striking out at a rock or bush.

Henry had just "battled" a tree on the opposite edge of the clearing from where his mother sat, when he caught a flash of something moving in the forest. "Did you see that?" he yelled. "A wolf just ran by!"

"A wolf?" Emma repeated. "Are you sure it wasn't something else?"

"Positive," Henry nodded. "Hey! What if it's Graham's wolf?" he asked excitedly. "What if Graham is alive again now that the curse is broken?" Emma was so taken aback by this possibility that she failed to notice Henry had begun to run after the creature.

"Henry!" she yelled, snapping out of her daydream and racing after the boy, "Henry, stop!" If the animal was not Graham's –and was indeed a real, wild wolf—then the last thing he needed to do was chase after it.

Henry finally slowed down when he reached a small gorge that ran through the middle of the forest. There was no sign of the wolf; he knew it must have gone across the ditch, and he tried to figure out how he could do the same. It had not rained for several days, so there was only a small layer of water coating the bed of the ravine, but the walls looked too steep to climb. Glancing around, he noticed that a log had been placed across the gulch a few feet down from where he stood. Between Henry's head start, and the uneven terrain in the woods, it took Emma longer than she expected to catch up to the boy. She arrived just in time to see him hop off the makeshift log bridge and onto the opposite bank.

"Henry, stop! _Now_!" Emma commanded. Henry froze, having never heard that tone in his mother's voice before. Emma set off across the log, her mind swirling with the lecture she was planning to give her son. In her distracted state, she failed to notice a patch of rotten wood near the center of the log. As she placed her foot on the area, a large chunk fell away, causing her to lose her balance and plunge to the bottom of the gully.

"Emma!" Henry screamed, racing to the edge of the ravine and peering down.

"I'm fine, kid. Get away from the edge before you fall too." The fall had thankfully been a short one, and the muddy ground made for a fairly soft landing. Aside from a shooting pain in her right wrist –which had borne the brunt of her weight in the landing—she did not feel injured. Standing up, she surveyed her predicament. The ditch was not that deep, but the walls were rather steep, and it was going to take some effort to climb out, especially with her wrist in so much pain. However, she did not have much of a choice in the matter, so taking a deep breath, she began to scale the steep wall.

After a few small slips, she finally reached the top, breathing hard and covered in dirt. Henry threw his arms around her, getting his own clothes dirty in the process. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he said, the guilt in his voice palpable.

"I know," Emma said, holding him close. She knew the fright of the fall had done more to convince Henry not to run off like that again than any lecture could have.

Looking around, she realized that she had no idea where they were. She wasn't sure how deep into the woods they'd gone, but she thought their best chance of getting out was to head back in the direction from which they'd come. The problem with that plan, however, was the fact that a large chunk of rotten wood had fallen from the center of the log "bridge," and she was not about to risk walking back across it. Going through the ravine was not an option either. She'd barely managed to climb up the steep wall; she did not think she was up to the task of trying to climb up the other side, and she was almost certain it would be too much for Henry. She reached for her cellphone, hoping to call for help. With a sinking feeling, she remembered that it was in the pocket of her jacket, which, in her hurry to chase after Henry, had been left in the clearing. Finally, unable to think of a better option, she decided to walk alongside the ravine, hoping they would come across another bridge or an area where the climb would not be so steep.

* * *

Snow sat at the kitchen table, nervously chewing her lip. She and James had not been that concerned when they'd come home to find the apartment empty. They figured Emma had taken Henry out for a while, and although they were a little bothered that she didn't leave a note, they did not see any reason to worry. However, they began to grow anxious when dinnertime rolled around and they still had not heard from the pair, and panic set in when Snow's third phone call had gone unanswered. James had gone out to search about an hour ago, leaving Snow to sit at home in case they should return.

The sound of the doorknob turning caused her to jump up from the table. As the door opened to reveal Emma and Henry, she rushed forward, wrapping the pair in a tight embrace. "You're back!" she breathed, relief coursing through her veins. Pulling back, she took in their dirty appearances. "What have you two been doing?" she questioned, her mind racing with possibilities.

"We were in the woods," Henry explained, "I lost my walkie-talkie, so I begged Emma to take me to get it, and we had a swordfight, but then I saw a wolf, and I chased it until Emma fell, but by then we were lost, so we had to walk around until we finally found another bridge and were able to cross the ditch again." The boy was talking so quickly and animatedly that Snow was not able to follow most of the story, but she did gather that it was nothing as horrific as the dreadful scenarios she'd imagined as she waited for them to return home.

"Why don't you go get cleaned up," Snow suggested to the boy, doing her best to remain cheerful. While Henry went upstairs to fetch clean clothes, she sent a quick text to James to let him know that they had returned safely. Emma quietly opened the freezer, wanting to find an icepack to place on her wrist—hopefully without drawing Snow's attention to the fact that she was injured.

Snow waited until she heard the sound of water running in the bathroom before turning to her daughter. "Sit," she commanded, her tone icy. Emma was too stunned by the sudden change in the woman's demeanor to disobey. She closed the freezer door—all thoughts of an icepack forgotten—and sank into a seat at the kitchen table, her heart thudding. Snow stood in front of her, arms crossed, with a hard expression on her face. "Is something wrong with your phone?" she asked quietly.

"What?" Emma asked, confused by the line of questioning.

"Your phone," Snow repeated. "It must be broken, right? I mean, that's the only explanation for why you wouldn't have thought to call and check in at some point today. Or was it just that you couldn't be bothered to do so?"

"Snow…" Emma began, shocked.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were about you? We came home to find you both gone—no note, no call, nothing."

Emma had never seen the woman look so angry, not even when she'd admitted to abducting Henry. She could feel her own wave of anger beginning to well up within her. "In case you've forgotten, I'm an adult," she spat.

"Yes, an adult who has _responsibilities_. Regina is still a threat, and you thought it would be a good idea to take Henry—who, may I remind you, spent the day in bed yesterday because he was sick—and go wondering around in the woods without telling anyone where you were going? That doesn't sound like a very _adult_ decision to me." Snow knew she wasn't being entirely fair; she knew she should at least give Emma the opportunity to explain. But at the moment, her emotions—a complex mixture of extreme relief that Emma and Henry were safe, residual worry over all the things that might have happened to them, and annoyance at her daughter's carelessness— were manifesting themselves as anger.

"I don't have to listen to this," Emma said, more upset than angry. Things had been going so well with Snow, and the last thing she wanted to do was fight with the woman. She pushed up from the table, wincing as she accidentally placed her weight on her injured wrist.

"What's wrong?" Snow asked, her tone immediately shifting from one of anger to one of concern.

"It's nothing," Emma replied.

"It doesn't look like nothing." Taking her daughter's hand in her own, Snow began to gently probe her wrist, noting how the woman flinched at even the lightest of touches. "Emma, I think you should have this checked out at the hospital," she said. All traces of her previous irritation toward her daughter had been replaced by worry.

"I'm fine, really," Emma tried to argue. Her wrist was throbbing, but she really hated hospitals.

"We're going," Snow declared firmly.

"Fine," the blonde said sullenly, amazed by how quickly Snow had mastered the "I'm your mother, do what I say" tone.

At that moment, James burst into the apartment. "Emma!" he exclaimed, crossing to embrace his daughter in a bear hug. He handed the blonde her jacket, which she gratefully accepted. When she and Henry had finally emerged from the woods, they'd been several miles from the clearing, and in her hurry to get her son home, she'd forgotten about the coat. She knew James must have come across the jacket during his search of the town, and had likely entered the forest to look for them, but the woods were so expansive that their paths had not crossed. "Where were you?" he asked. "We were so worried!"

"I've already taken care of the guilt trip," Snow said briskly, putting on her coat and grabbing her keys. "Right now, Emma and I are going to the hospital. She's injured her wrist somehow." Before James could even begin to properly respond, Snow placed her arm around her daughter and whisked her from the apartment. "Henry's in the shower," she called back over her shoulder. "I will call you when we know something."

* * *

**More Snow/Emma goodness to come! And, as always, I welcome your input!**

**Also, did everyone see the deleted Emma/Mary Margaret scene that ABC recently released? If anyone wants to discuss all the feelings it gave them or help me figure out why in the world they cut it out of the episode, feel free to PM me! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**As promised, more Emma/Snow!  
Warning: child abuse is implied in this chapter.  
**

* * *

Emma sat in the waiting room with Snow, nervously tapping her foot against the floor. After checking in, she had attempted to fill out her paperwork, but her right wrist hurt too much to write with. For a while, she'd tried using her left hand, but the process had been painstakingly slow, and her letters looked like a child's scribble. She'd eventually had to hand the forms over to Snow, allowing the brunette to transcribe her verbal responses. Now there was nothing to do but wait, and with every passing second, Emma was reminded more and more of why she hated hospitals. Luckily, living in a small town meant that she did not have to wait long before a nurse called her name.

Emma stood up, her nerves suddenly through the roof. She desperately wanted Snow to come too, but she was a grown woman; she wasn't about to be caught asking her "mommy" to come with her to see the doctor. Instead, she shot the brunette a furtive glance, hoping the woman would pick up on the fact that she did not want to be alone.

Snow took in her daughter's tense stance and uneasy expression. Emma had been anxious since they'd arrived, and Snow longed to offer her some form of comfort, but in an effort to make up for her outburst in the kitchen, she was doing her best to treat her daughter like an adult. However, when the nurse called Emma's name, the blonde shot her a look which clearly indicated that — adult or not — she needed a metaphorical hand to hold. "Do you mind if I come in with you?" Snow offered.

"Whatever," the blonde shrugged, relieved that her message had been received. Snow followed her daughter into the exam room, and took a seat in a chair in the corner, watching as a nurse took Emma's vitals. After the nurse left, Snow noticed that Emma was holding her wrist gingerly.

"How badly does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not nearly as bad as the time I broke my leg," Emma shrugged, trying to appear tougher than she really felt at the moment.

"Oh?" Snow said, curiosity evident in her tone. Once again, she lamented the fact that there was so much about her daughter's life that she did not know. She was doing her best to let Emma set the pace, but it was difficult when all she wanted to do was sit down with her daughter and listen to her entire life story.

"It's a pretty funny story actually," Emma said, nodding. Snow was always so eager to learn about her past, and this was one memory she didn't mind sharing. She knew telling the story would help keep her mind off her nerves, while distracting Snow from worrying about her wrist.

"When I was fourteen, the foster home I lived in was down the street from a very wealthy family who had a pool and a trampoline in their backyard. Sometimes, when the family was out of town, my foster brothers and I would sneak into their yard and swim or play on the trampoline. One afternoon, my foster brother, Kevin — who was sixteen at the time — dared me to do a flip off the trampoline into the pool. Now, I know you may find this hard to believe, but as a teenager, I never turned down a dare," Emma said jokingly.

"I'm shocked," Snow answered, feigning a look of mock disbelief.

Emma smiled. "So, we pushed the trampoline over to the edge of the pool and I started jumping. I'd gotten to the point where I felt that I had enough air, and I was going to use the next bounce to launch into the flip, when suddenly, the owner of the house came flying out the back door, looking furious. Turns out, we just _thought _everyone was out of town. I panicked and tried to change positions mid-bounce, thinking that I could somehow just jump off the side of the trampoline onto the grass instead, and take off running after Kevin, who'd fled the scene the moment the guy had opened the door. Looking back, I realize what a dumb idea it was — even dumber than doing a flip into the pool — but at the time, all I could think of was getting out of there. Anyway, I had been bouncing way too high to just suddenly stop, so when I hit the trampoline, it shot me off the side, going very high and very fast. I ended up landing on the ground with my leg twisted under me at a totally unnatural angle. It hurt like hell, but I know I must've made a funny sight flying through the air like that," she finished, laughter in her voice.

Snow chuckled as she envisioned the scenario. She had no trouble picturing Emma agreeing to do something dangerous simply because she'd been dared, and although she hated the idea of her daughter being hurt, she had to admit that the story was amusing. Because this was the first time Emma had ever willingly offered something specific from her past, Snow found that she wanted to know every detail — Who drove her to the hospital? Had the owner of the house been forgiving in light of the circumstances? What had Emma looked like at fourteen?— but before she could ask any questions, the doctor entered the room.

After inspecting Emma's wrist, he asked her how she had injured it. Emma related the story of the rotten log, trying to downplay how dangerous the fall could have potentially been. She was careful not to look in Snow's direction, not wanting to see the worried expression she knew the woman would be wearing.

The doctor made notes on his chart as he listened to her story. "And have you ever injured this wrist before?" he asked. Emma balked at the unexpected question, inadvertently throwing a panicked glance in Snow's direction as she tried to decide how to answer.

Sensing her hesitation, the doctor added, "It's important that you be honest with me. It's possible that you may have aggravated an old injury."

"Yes," Emma finally admitted. "I fell down a flight of stairs and broke it. But that was over twenty years ago; I'm sure that injury is completely healed by now."

Snow narrowed her eyes, knowing there was more to the story. Had Emma simply answered the question, she would have assumed the fall was just a result of the blonde being clumsy. However, her daughter's reluctance to answer set off alarm bells in her head. She tried to catch Emma's eye, but the woman stared straight ahead, once again composing her features into a neutral expression.

"Well, it appears as though you may have a hairline fracture," the doctor explained. "We'll need to take an x-ray to confirm, but you'll most likely have to wear a cast for a while."

Snow was not allowed to go to the x-ray room with Emma, so she stepped outside and called James to tell him the news. James' protective instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, and it took Snow several minutes to convince him that he did not need to come to the hospital. Once he calmed down, he told Snow that he'd spoken to Henry and had managed to piece together what had happened that afternoon. Snow listened to the tale, feeling increasingly guilty for being so harsh on her daughter when most of the situation had clearly been beyond Emma's control.

Returning to the waiting room, she did her best to pass the time, flipping through all the magazines, but unable to focus on what they said. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Emma emerged, bearing a small, white cast.

The sight made Snow's chest feel tight, and she wanted nothing more than to sweep her daughter into a loving embrace, but she knew that Emma would not appreciate her making a scene. Instead, she settled on giving the woman's non-injured hand a small, comforting squeeze as she led her from the hospital.

* * *

The pair rode home in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Emma rested her head against the passenger window, staring out at the streets of Storybrooke, which, at this late hour, were deserted. When they arrived home, Snow parked next to James' truck, and the two women climbed from the car. As they began to head toward the apartment, Emma suddenly reached out and grabbed Snow's arm, stopping her. Snow turned to face the blonde, the light from the streetlamp illuminating the surprised look on her face.

"I just…I wanted to say I'm sorry about today. I never meant for you guys to worry."

Snow shook her head dismissively, "I know. And I'm sorry for going off on you like that. Your father told me what happened, and I know it wasn't your fault. I didn't even give you a chance to explain; I was treating you like a child, and that wasn't fair of me." She started to turn and continue walking, but something about Emma's expression caused her to pause.

Emma chewed her lip, trying to gather the courage to broach the conversation topic she had in mind. Telling the humorous story of how she'd injured her leg had been easy, and it'd felt nice to bond with Snow about her past, but she had never before told anyone the grim truth about her broken wrist, and the thought of doing so scared her. What scared her even more, however, was the fact that for the first time, she actually _wanted _to share that part of her life with someone.

Snow watched as the blonde's internal debate played out across her face. She had a sneaking suspicion as to what her daughter wanted to talk about, and it was a subject she was equally eager to discuss.

"Emma, what really happened when you broke your wrist?" she asked, hoping desperately that she had not misjudged the situation. Emma's eyes widened in surprise — it was almost scary how well the brunette could read her. Snow struggled to keep her expression neutral, wanting to let her daughter lead the conversation.

Emma walked over to James' truck, lowering the tailgate and taking a seat. She knew that the street in front of the apartment building was hardly the ideal place to have this conversation, but this was not something she was ready to discuss in front of Henry or James, and she knew that if she didn't get this off her chest tonight, there was a good chance she would never have the nerve to bring it back up. She waited until Snow had taken a seat beside her before taking a deep breath and beginning her story.

"Look, before I start, I just want you to know that I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty. You keep saying that the reason I should trust you is because you will always be honest with me. I know it's taken me awhile, but I _do_ trust you, and I want you to be able to trust me as well. You clearly picked up on the fact that something was off about the story I told the doctor, so now I think you deserve to hear the truth from me." Snow nodded to show that she understood. A part of her rejoiced to know that her patience with her daughter had finally paid off, but her delight was hampered by apprehension about what Emma might reveal.

"Well, when I said that I fell down the stairs, that wasn't a total lie," Emma began, nervously picking at her cast. "Only, I didn't exactly fall…I was pushed."

Snow tried to be patient as she waited for Emma to continue, but when it seemed as though the woman was not going to elaborate further, she finally spoke up. "Who pushed you?" she prodded. Emma remained silent and began to pick at her cast more insistently. Snow placed a calming hand over her daughter's, waiting until the blonde slowly raised her head to look at her. "Emma, who pushed you?" she repeated more insistently.

"My foster mom," Emma whispered. Snow felt her breath hitch, a white hot flash of anger coursing through her. As Emma took in the woman's reaction, she immediately regretted upsetting her. "But I had gotten really out of hand that time," she quickly added. She knew that in no way excused her foster mother's behavior, but she had to say something to calm Snow down.

"What do you mean _that time_?" Snow asked incredulously. "Did she hurt you more than once?!" Emma paused — realizing that her attempt to reassure the woman had had the opposite effect — and then slowly nodded her head.

"And you didn't tell anyone?" Snow in no way meant to imply that the abuse was Emma's fault; it just pained her that there had been no one in her daughter's life for her to turn to.

"I was six; I didn't know who to tell," Emma shrugged. "Plus, she was always so remorseful afterward; she'd buy me toys and shower me with hugs. I never felt more loved than after one of her episodes."

Snow stared at the blonde, her mouth agape; no wonder her daughter had such a screwed-up outlook on parental love. She felt physically sick. She was torn between wanting to punch something and giving in to the tears that were rapidly forming behind her eyes. But she knew that she needed to stay strong in this moment; if she fell apart at this revelation, Emma would be less likely to open up to her in the future.

"How long did you live with this woman?" she asked, almost scared to know the answer.

"A little over a year. Eventually, my teacher noticed that something wasn't right, and called Social Services."

Snow drew in a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She could not even begin to fathom the proper words for the occasion, nor did she trust herself to speak, so instead she settled for physical comfort. She placed one arm around the woman and drew her to her side, wishing there was some way she could transfer all of her daughter's pain to herself. As Emma relaxed into the embrace, laying her head on the brunette's shoulder, Snow kissed the top of her golden curls, and gently rested her head on her daughter's.

Emma allowed the woman to hold her, wondering if she'd made the right decision in telling her. She'd been so focused on how sharing this secret would impact _her_ that she hadn't realized just how deeply the revelation might affect Snow. As the silence stretched on, she grew increasingly nervous. "Are you ok?" she asked finally.

"Yes…and no," Snow answered slowly, releasing her hold on the blonde. "The thought of someone purposely causing my daughter harm is unbearable, and it's almost impossible for me not to place some level of blame on myself. But I want to know you, Emma; I want to know about your life—both the good and the bad. There are things in your past that may be difficult for you to talk about and painful for me to hear about, but those experiences have shaped you into the person I know and love today. I realize that there's nothing I can do to change what happened to you in the past, but what I _can_ do is be there for you now." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Tell me, were you ever happy?"

Emma nodded thoughtfully. "I know I paint a pretty grim picture of the foster care system, but it wasn't all bad. There were times when I had a decent set of foster parents, or a foster sibling I got along with, or a teacher I really enjoyed; it was just hard to grow attached to anything or anyone, knowing that it was never permanent. Now that I know how good things can be, I realize that I was never _truly _happy as a child, but there were times when I thought I was."

Snow was silent as she processed this information. She had a million more questions, but she did not want to push Emma too far in one night. "Just so you know, this conversation can stay between us," she offered. "I won't say anything to your father until you're ready to tell him yourself." She hated to keep a secret from her husband, but she did not want to betray the trust it had taken her so long to earn from her daughter.

"Actually, could you tell him for me?" Emma asked timidly. She knew that her father deserved to know, but she was still getting to know James, and she wasn't yet comfortable with the idea of having such an emotionally-charged conversation with the man.

"Tell you what, when you're ready, we'll tell him together," Snow said. Emma smiled gratefully and stood up. Snow followed her lead, returning the tailgate to its proper position. As she turned around, she found herself enveloped in her daughter's arms.

Emma was shocked by her own boldness; she hadn't intended to embrace her mother, but her emotions had gotten the best of her. She'd given Snow a glimpse of one of the darkest periods of her life, and the woman had taken it in stride. She had not completely fallen apart, or looked at Emma judgmentally as if she were damaged goods; instead, she'd been strong and reassuring, somehow knowing exactly what to say and do. Emma felt as though she had taken a huge leap of faith in opening up to Snow, and instead of plummeting to the ground, she'd been snared in a net that she knew would never let her fall.

Snow recovered from her surprise, and snaked her arms around Emma's waist to return the hug. She clung to her daughter, not wanting to be the one to break contact. They remained entwined for a few moments, before Emma finally pulled back.

"We should go inside. It's late and James will be worried." Snow nodded in agreement and followed her daughter, a chaotic jumble of thoughts and feelings swirling through her. Today had been a rollercoaster of emotions, none of which she'd fully processed yet, but despite all the pain and worry she'd experienced, she felt as though she had achieved a great victory tonight.

* * *

**FYI—the broken leg story really happened to my best friend's younger brother (in his own backyard). I just tweaked it a bit to make it fit Emma's circumstances.**

**And a bit of bad news (well, bad news for me at least)…I started back to school last week, and because I have no self-control, I've been using all my free time to write instead of study. As much as I'd love to keep this story going forever (there are so many moments I never got around to covering!), I **_**really **_**need to focus on my classes. SO, the next chapter will, unfortunately, be the last :( :(. I'm really sorry, but I will do my best to wrap this fic up as best I can. Anyway, just a heads up. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry this took me so long to finish, but I struggled for a long time about how to end things. I tried to include one last moment with each of Emma's family members. Enjoy!  
PS: You may want to reread the last chapter—or the whole fic, your choice ;)—to remind yourself of where we are in the story.  
**

* * *

"Finally!" James exclaimed as they walked through the door. He threw his arms around his daughter, mindful not to accidentally enclose the injured wrist in his embrace. Over Emma's shoulder, he took in his wife's appearance, his brow creasing with concern when he noticed the peculiar expression on her face.

Noticing his sudden preoccupation, Emma pulled back from the embrace and followed his line of vision, her eyes landing on Snow. As James watched, a silent communication passed between the two women, and Snow quickly composed her features. For a moment, the air hung thick with tension as Emma and Snow tried unsuccessfully to pretend that they weren't keeping something from James.

"You must be hungry after missing dinner," Snow said in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence. As if on cue, Emma's stomach growled loudly, and the trio laughed, the momentary tension alleviated by the comedic moment. James was still curious as to the interaction that had just passed between his wife and daughter, but he trusted that they would tell him when the time was right.

While Snow headed into the kitchen, James ushered Emma over to the couch, pulling the coffee table closer and gesturing for her to prop her feet up. Emma eased onto the comfortable couch, and felt all the muscles in her body simultaneously relax. It had been an incredibly long day, and it felt nice to finally be at home and resting. She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily.

James noticed the sigh, mistaking it for one of discomfort. "Are you in pain?" he asked worriedly.

"No, they gave me some pain pills at the hospital," Emma shrugged.

"Good. Is there anything else I can get you? Are you thirsty? Cold?" He retrieved Emma's baby blanket from the mattress on the floor and began to drape it over his daughter's lap.

"James!" Emma laughed, too amused to be angry that he was treating her like a child. "I'm perfectly capable of walking; I injured my wrist, not my legs. Seriously, I'm _fine, _and unless you know some sort of spell that can magically heal my wrist, there's nothing more you can do."

"Right," he scoffed, embarrassedly running a hand through his hair. "Deep down, I know that. But my instinct is to do everything in my power to take away your pain, no matter how small that pain may be. I know you're no longer a child, but in my eyes, you'll always be someone that I need to protect. That's just what fathers do," he finished with a shrug, glad that he had not upset her with his overbearing behavior. Logically, he knew he still had many experiences to look forward to with his daughter, but there were so many little moments he'd never get back—the joy of Emma's first steps, the pride of watching her learn to read, the dread of her bringing home her first boyfriend—and he felt an intense need to overcompensate for lost time. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm coming across too strongly; I'll try to take it down a notch. It's just that it's hard enough to learn how to be a father, but there aren't any parenting books out there that tell you how to behave when you're the same age as your daughter. "

"You mean you didn't get your copy of Frozen in Time: A Post-Curse Guide to Reuniting with Your Adult Daughter?" Emma cracked, earning a loud laugh from the man.

"I'm afraid they were all sold out," he joked back. "But I'm doing my best, so I hope you'll bear with me."

"Eh, you're not so bad," Emma said nudging his arm with her elbow. She almost felt bad as she watched a giant grin light up his face; it took so little from her to make him happy, and yet she rarely gave him even that.

Snow felt a tiny twinge of envy as she listened to her daughter and husband's playful banter. She would never trade her relationship with Emma—especially after all the progress they'd made tonight—but she couldn't help but feel slightly jealous about how uncomplicated their bond seemed to be. She knew a big part of that was due to the fact that Emma was still guarded around James, relying on humor and superficial small-talk rather than truly opening up, as she did with Snow; it would just be nice to talk to Emma without always wondering about the hidden subtext and emotional implications of the conversation. Patience had never been one of her strengths, and she found herself wishing that she could somehow fast forward in time to the point in their relationship when they were able to find a comfortable balance between being family and being friends. But, of course, speeding up time would also mean missing even more time with her daughter—something she could never truly wish for.

The sound of the microwave buzzer startled her from her reverie. Setting the plate of reheated lasagna on the table, she gestured to Emma that her dinner was ready.

"Can I eat it over here?" Emma asked with a mock pleading expression. "I _am _injured after all_," _she added teasingly. She was far too comfortable to leave her place on the couch, and if her parents were going to insist on hovering over her, she might as well take advantage of it.

Snow rolled her eyes good-naturedly and brought the plate of leftovers to her daughter. James vacated his place on the couch in order to allow his wife to sit next to Emma, and took a seat on the coffee table, facing the pair.

Emma tried to ignore the feeling of their eyes on her—a sensation that was becoming all too familiar. "How's Henry?" she asked, as she uncoordinatedly tried to maneuver a forkful of lasagna to her mouth with her left hand. She already felt like enough of a child in front on her parents; the last thing she needed was to spill her food on herself.

"He was pretty wound up. He wanted to stay up and wait for you, but I finally convinced him to lie down, and he fell asleep almost immediately. I think your 'adventure' this afternoon wore him out," James answered.

"He's not the only one," Emma joked wryly. "Speaking of which, I'm guessing I probably have few frantic voicemails to delete from my phone." She set her fork down and pulled her cellphone from her jacket pocket for the first time that night. "Wow! Ten missed calls and _seven_ voicemails?!" she exclaimed as she entered her voicemail password.

"I was worried, ok?" Snow blushed, snatching the device from Emma's hand. She began deleting the voicemails, not wanting to make Emma listen to the increasingly panicked messages.

"Maybe you should start carrying your phone in your pants pocket, or buy a case that you can clip to your jeans. That way you'll always have it with you," James suggested in a tone that implied that it was less of a request and more of a demand. He was aware that he'd just promised to be less overbearing, but the mention of Snow's frantic calls reminded him of how anxious he'd felt earlier as he raced around town and through the woods searching for his daughter and grandson.

Emma opened her mouth—intending to remind him that forgetting her phone had been an accident and point out that she probably wouldn't have had signal in the woods anyway—but something about the expressions on her parents' faces stopped her. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think about what it would've been like to grow up with the pair. James was usually a very easy-going guy, but she had no doubt he could be quite stern when the situation called for it, and she'd gotten a taste of Snow's temper earlier this evening. She definitely would've been scared to be a teenager caught sneaking out of the castle under their watch. Of course, as a princess with loving family, perhaps she would not have gone through a "rebellious teenager" phase._ Princess_…it was still so hard to envision the person she might now be had she been raised as fairytale royalty. She immediately nixed the idea of frilly dresses and fancy balls; after all, from what she knew about Snow, the woman was hardly your typical damsel-in-distress Disney princess, so she had no reason to believe that she would have been either. In fact, she could easily picture both of them riding into battle alongside James. As she felt a slow smile begin to spread across her face, she realized that she'd let the daydream go too far, and she quickly shook her head to banish the thought, not wanting to dwell on what could have been. Scooping the last bite of lasagna into her mouth, she stood up from the couch.

"I'm going to check on Henry," she announced, crossing the room to rinse her plate before heading upstairs.

* * *

Emma crept into the dark room, trying not to wake her son. However, her eyes had not quite adjusted to the blackness, and she failed to see one of Henry's shoes, which he'd discarded in the middle of the floor. Her ankle twisted slightly as she stepped on the shoe, and she lost her balance, lurching forward and landing heavily against the edge of the bed. Henry stirred, his eyes flying open when he located the source of the disturbance.

"Emma?" he said, turning on the bedside lamp.

"Sorry about that," Emma apologized, standing up and straightening her shirt.

"I'm glad you're home. I was worried about you."

"That seems to be a common theme today," Emma quipped under her breath. "Well I'm fine, kid. Just a small fracture." She held out her cast for him to inspect.

"Cool. Can I sign it?"

After the cast had been signed – with an unsteady drawing of the mother and son and the inscription "Get well soon" underneath – Emma pulled the cover up over the boy and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm glad you're ok," Henry said, smiling up at her. "I got scared when grandpa told me you'd gone to the hospital."

"Didn't he tell you it was just my wrist?" Emma asked, slightly angry at James for upsetting the boy.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "But I was worried it might be something else, and it would've been all my fault for going into the woods in the first place."

"Well, running off like that was pretty reckless, but I'm fine. You're not getting rid of me that easily, kid," she joked, kissing the top of his head. "I love you."

"I love you too…mom."

"Mom?" Emma repeated, hardly daring to believe what she'd heard.

"Is that ok?" Henry asked, suddenly nervous. He'd considered calling her "mom" before this moment, but he knew how much trouble she was having adjusting to all the changes that had occurred since the curse was broken, and he wasn't sure how she'd react. However, after two scares in one day—first seeing her fall from the bridge, and then finding out that she'd had to go to the hospital because of something he'd done—he felt he could wait no longer.

"It's more than ok," Emma laughed, leaning in to embrace her son. She felt like her heart might explode from happiness. She knew that she was Henry's mother biologically, and he'd made it clear that he preferred her over Regina, but there had still been a lingering semblance of doubt in Emma's mind as to how Henry really viewed their relationship. It was amazing how just the small verbal confirmation of his feelings could affect her so deeply.

* * *

After Henry had once again fallen asleep, Emma headed back downstairs to wash off the grime that was still covering her after her earlier fall. The shower took her twice as long as it normally would have—due to the difficult task of keeping her cast from accidentally getting wet—but she didn't care; she was on an emotional high that nothing could spoil. In fact, the only thought that even slightly sullied her jubilation, was that she didn't have anyone to share the news with. Prior to breaking the curse, she would have run straight to Mary Margaret to celebrate the event, but now she felt that doing so would be unfair. Telling Snow would only remind the brunette that she had yet to reach that milestone with her own child, and she did not want to upset the woman.

Once she'd dried off and gotten dressed, she propped the bathroom door open, hoping the cool air would help clear the steam off the mirror so that she could comb her hair out. Her locks had a tendency to tangle when wet, and the fact that she was attempting to use her non-dominant hand to brush them made the task even more of a challenge than usual. Passing by the bathroom, Snow noticed her daughter's struggle.

"Want some help?" she offered. Much to her surprise, Emma nodded and followed her to the couch, sitting down with her back to the woman. Snow took the comb and began patiently working through the knots in her daughter's hair. Emma was normally a bit rough with her hair, and she had to admit that Snow's gentle touch felt amazing.

"You may have gotten your father's blonde hair, but you got your curls from me," Snow said with a hint of pride in her voice. She adored Emma's ringlets and loved identifying traits that tied her to her daughter. She reached up and fingered her own short locks. "Sometimes I really miss my long hair, but then I think about how much easier it is to manage like this, and I wonder if maybe I should just keep it short."

"I think your hair looks nice like that," Emma shrugged. "I can't really picture you with long hair, but I'm sure you'll look great no matter what you decide to do." She knew it was unusual for her to so openly compliment someone, but she was still buzzing with joy from her encounter with Henry, and she found that she wanted to spread some happiness of her own.

Snow blushed at the unexpected praise, too stunned to question what had prompted the rare event. She had been worried that Emma would shut down or become awkward around her after confessing the truth about her wrist, but the blonde seemed oddly content.

After she'd combed through her daughter's hair, Snow insisted on blow-drying it, dismissing Emma's insistence that she would be fine going to bed with it wet. Near the end of the process, James appeared and began to settle himself onto the mattress on the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" Emma yelled over the sound of the blow-dryer.

"What?" James yelled back. Snow switched off the device and shushed them both, pointing to the stairs to remind them that Henry was trying to sleep.

"I said, what do you think you're doing?" Emma repeated more quietly.

"Going to bed," James shrugged, trying to pretend that he didn't know why she was asking.

"I see that," Emma answered. "But why are you lying down on my mattress?"

"You're injured, Emma. You shouldn't be sleeping on the floor."

"Um, in case you're unfamiliar with how casts work, I'll be wearing this thing for several weeks, and sleeping in your bed won't speed the healing process in any way."

James opened his mouth to argue, but as he took in the stubborn look on his daughter's face, he accepted that he was fighting a losing battle. Sighing, he stood from the mattress, smirking as Emma's expression changed to one of triumph; it was amazing how much she looked like Snow sometimes.

He hovered uncertainly for a moment, wanting to kiss his daughter goodnight, but still unsure of where they stood on the subject of physical contact. Finally, he settled on gently touching her cheek, before turning and heading back into the bedroom. The awkward, but loving, gesture melted away any annoyance Emma felt toward the man, and she turned to shoot Snow an amused look as if to say, "Can you believe him?"

"He means well," Snow said with an apologetic smile as she began to put the finishing touches on her daughter's hair. The exhaustion from the day combined with the late hour and the soothing heat of the blow-dryer made it nearly impossible for Emma to keep her eyes open, and she yawned in spite of herself.

"It's after midnight. You should go to bed," Snow suggested as she unplugged the blow-dryer and began to wrap the cord around the appliance. Emma welcomed the idea of sleep, and quickly settled herself onto the mattress. As she pulled the cover over herself, she realized that her baby blanket was still lying on the couch, where she had discarded it after James spread it over her earlier. She wanted to retrieve it, but her body screamed in protest at the idea of getting up from the mattress.

Snow noticed her daughter's preoccupation, and after spotting the source of her distraction, quickly deduced what she needed. She picked up the blanket and fingered the purple ribbon, marveling that Emma had once been small enough to wrap inside of it. "Do you always sleep with this?" she asked curiously.

"No," Emma answered. "But when I was a kid, I used to sleep with it anytime I had a bad dream, and after that nightmare the other night, I figured..." Emma trialed off, suddenly feeling a bit childish. Snow smiled as the blonde accepted the blanket and wrapped her arms around it. She was grateful that her daughter had had some small piece of comfort all those years that she was alone.

"Goodnight, Emma," Snow said quietly as she switched off the living room light. "I love you."

_I love you too_, Emma responded in her head, wishing she had the courage to say it out loud. Her conversation with Henry had led her to understand that her parents weren't mind-readers. She had already been certain that Henry considered her to be his mother, and the revelation had still deeply moved her; she could only imagine how such an admission would affect Snow and James, who were still living in the dark about Emma's feelings toward them. Although she now thought of them as her parents, she had never acknowledged that fact aloud, and she realized that they deserved to know. As she tightened her grip around her baby blanket and inhaled the familiar scent, she resolved to find some way to tell them, no matter how difficult it may be for her.

* * *

Neither Snow nor James could sleep. They knew they were over-reacting — Emma was an adult and it was just a small wrist fracture — but after everything they'd been through with their daughter, they were oversensitive to the idea of anything happening to her. They'd begun to take turns checking on Emma, worried that her wrist might cause her pain in the night. On Snow's second trip, she crept quietly to the edge of the living room. She didn't dare turn the light on, but she was able to make out the outline of her daughter's chest rising and falling. As she turned to head back to the bedroom, a voice rose out of the dark, causing her to jump.

"You know, it's kind of hard to sleep when you're being watched," Emma said, sitting up and throwing off the covers.

Snow cringed as Emma crossed the room and flipped on the kitchen light. "I'm sorry if I woke you," she apologized.

"No, it's alright. I've been awake for a while; my wrist was bothering me a little." In truth, her wrist was throbbing, but she didn't want to worry the woman too much.

"Oh!" Snow exclaimed, jumping into action, "Let me get your pain medication."

Emma held up a hand to stop her. "I can do it." She filled a glass with water and then removed the bottle from the medicine cabinet. As she attempted to open the child-proof cap, she once again mentally cursed herself for injuring her dominant hand; it was apparent that this cast was going to complicate everything. Snow chuckled as she watched her daughter's struggle. Emma thrust the bottle in her direction, attempting to scowl at the woman, but instead slipping into a smile.

Snow easily popped the lid off the bottle, and poured two pills into her daughter's open palm. "Listen, I'm sorry your father and I were spying on you. We were just worried," she said, hoping they hadn't made Emma feel too uncomfortable.

"I know. It's ok," Emma shrugged.

Snow narrowed her eyes. Emma had been acting strange all evening — allowing Snow to help with her hair, giving out unexpected compliments, and now shrugging off the act of overprotectiveness. "Someone's in a good mood," she said suspiciously.

"Not really," Emma hedged, taking another large gulp of water in an attempt to hide the smile playing at her lips. She was still reeling from Henry's announcement earlier, and Snow had apparently picked up on her happiness.

Snow watched as a huge smile crept across the blonde's face. "Emma!" she cried, a smile breaking out on her own face upon seeing her daughter so happy. "What's going on?"

Emma knew there was no point in trying to play it off; Snow was determined to get it out of her. "Henry called me 'mom' for the first time," she admitted, positively glowing with pleasure.

"Oh!" Snow exclaimed, instantly picking up on why Emma had been hesitant to tell her the news. "That's wonderful! Frankly, I'm surprised it took him so long." Emma shrugged happily and used her finger to trace the drawing on her cast.

"You're doing a great job with him," Snow said kindly. "I know you've never had to be a full-time mom before, but you've handled the transition beautifully. Despite all the changes you've had to deal with, you've never let it interfere with your duties as a parent. You put your child before yourself, and that's a very admirable trait." Emma smiled self-consciously under the praise. As she reflected on Snow's words, she realized how applicable they were to the brunette as well. She thought back to her earlier resolve and quickly spoke up before she lost her nerve.

"I guess I get that trait from my own mother," she blurted out, gazing at the woman shyly. Snow looked at her questioningly, and Emma nodded with a grin. Snow smiled so widely her face hurt, and rushed forward to embrace her daughter.

"James, I know you're listening, so you might as well come out," Emma said with a chuckle. A moment later, James emerged bashfully from behind the curtain, embarrassed to have been caught eavesdropping. Emma pulled back a bit from Snow's embrace, but allowed the woman to keep her arms wrapped lightly around her.

"When the curse was first broken, I couldn't bring myself to even _think _of you guys as my parents; it was too new and too…well, weird. But you stuck with me, no matter how much I hurt you or tried to shut you out, and you've proven to me that I no longer have to go through life alone." She glanced between the two of them, a sudden feeling of panic rising within her as she realized just how much she was putting herself out there. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to continue.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm ready to start calling you mom and dad — in fact, it will probably be a long time before I'm ready to take that step — but I want you to know that I _do_ consider you both to be my parents." As Snow's eyes met James', she saw her own feelings of joy mirrored on his face. She wondered briefly if this was all just a cruel dream, and she discreetly dug her nail into her palm, rejoicing at the slight sensation of pain which indicated that this was indeed real.

"I know you both harbor residual guilt about sending me through the wardrobe, but I think you should forgive yourselves. I've come to realize that without the curse, I never would've had Henry, and no matter how much I wish I could've grown up with you two, I could never wish away my son."

"We love you, Emma," James said, trying to control the emotion in his voice.

"I know you do," Emma nodded. "And I want to return that love, but I've never been the type to freely express my feelings, and it may take me a little longer to be able to say it out loud." She looked at them with an earnest expression, hoping they would understand. "But you have to know that I truly do care about you both."

Tears forming in her eyes, Snow once again tightened her embrace on her daughter. Emma looked at James, silently inviting him to join in, which he was quick to do. As Emma felt the love emanating from her parents, she sighed contentedly. It felt like an eternity ago that she'd sat at the remains of Henry's castle with Snow, feeling as though her life had been yanked out from under her. Looking back, she could see how all the baby steps had merged into a giant leap leading her from that point to now. She knew a long road still lay ahead, but as long as she had her family by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges might come.

* * *

**Well guys, there you have it. I'm sorry if the ending felt a bit rushed, but as I said, with school starting back, I have **_**zero**_** time to write. I apologize to those who were hoping to see Emma calling Snow/James "mom & dad." I just felt that it was still too soon for her to take such a huge step, so I tried to find a realistic compromise. I really hope no one is too disappointed with the way I ended things. Also, I hope I didn't overload you with fluff too much there at the end, but I figured if there was ever a time to be mushy, it'd be the end of the story. :)**

**And now for a little mushiness of my own: **_**THANK YOU**_** so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story along the way. I never would have been able to keep the story going this long without your encouragement! I've really enjoyed hearing from all of y'all, both through reviews and PM's. If anyone wants to chat about the show—either before it starts (especially once we start getting promos), or after episodes start airing—don't hesitate to PM me!**


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